Tying the Nott
by ShayaLonnie
Summary: In a post-war world where Hermione is friends with Draco Malfoy and most of her friends have developed relationships with former Slytherin classmates, Hermione is single. However, when former Death Eater — Theo Nott — is dying, Hermione is guilted into marrying him to save his life. *Art by Seph Meadowes* *Updated Sporadically—Not Abandoned*
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: **Rated M for explicit language, violence, and sexual content. This story is Canon Divergent. For further disclaimers and warnings, make sure to read my profile. This story will also soon be uploaded to Archive of Our Own. As the Ao3 version is uploaded, the corresponding chapter here on FFN will be edited to reflect an adherence to FFN's rules for explicit content. As of this moment, the FFN version is complete and unedited for content.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda, mlg6504

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

**Chapter One**

* * *

**March 2004**

"Granger."

Hermione looked up at Draco sitting across the table as he addressed her, noticing the way he squared his shoulders and adjusted his posture. It was something she had caught him doing in meetings at the Ministry when he knew he needed to prepare himself for an argument, especially a difficult one. That kind of posturing directed at _her _was never a good sign, but she did not vocalise her observations, allowing him to say what he needed to say.

"Do you remember the life debt you owe me? I'm collecting on it."

She slowly tilted her head to the side, staring at him incredulously as she wondered what the hell he was talking about. She refused to break eye contact with him. He had told her once, years ago, that breaking eye contact was a sign of weakness. "I don't owe you a life debt, Malfoy."

They had each only been working in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for six months—he in the _Beasts _Division; her in the _Being _Division—when Remus, the new Head of the department, paired them together for a case involving a werewolf who had been suspected of keeping a chimaera as a pet.

Malfoy had insisted that eye contact and posturing was the way to go, but all that landed him was a slammed door in his face and a threat involving the next full moon. When the Lycanthrope reopened his door to address _Hermione_, she lowered her gaze and tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck and submitting to the man on his own territory. Suddenly. they had been let through the door.

Beings were her speciality.

The _chimaera _on the other hand . . .

She shuddered at the memory; one that was never to be brought up in front of Malfoy because he had a terrible habit of gloating. It was, in fact, the first time he had saved her life and not the last—though, she saved him _just _as many times. It became a game over the years. It was something that Harry and Ginny found entertaining. Ron could not grasp why Hermione refused to call in the debt immediately and make Draco do something mortifying. It was hard to explain to a man married to Pansy Parkinson that being under the thumb of a Slytherin was not something she was looking forward to—something _he _had clearly grown numb to over the years.

Hermione tapped her index finger on the side of her paper coffee cup where the barista had incorrectly written her name on the side in black marker. "The last time _you _saved _my _life was three years ago when I fell off that broom on the dragon case in Berwickshire. I repaid _that _a month later when Dolohov escaped Azkaban and showed up at your house."

Draco waved his hand in the air impatiently in that smug way that had her nose twitching, brushing off her words. Shaking his head, he sighed and rhetorically asked, "Honestly, what kind of witch can't ride a broom?"

She held back the growl in her throat knowing that he was purposely provoking her.

"_I don't understand how you can be friends with him,"_ Ron would often say.

"_At least life isn't boring."_

Her two best friends would laugh at her, and Harry would inevitably ask, "_When have our lives ever been boring, Hermione?"_

She was glad to note that her adventures these days consisted of the occasional meetup for coffee with former Death Eaters as opposed to fighting them off in the middle of battle. Then again, the spare fugitive would show up once every few years, as Dolohov had done three years earlier when Hermione had stopped by Malfoy Manor to deal with a case that crossed her desk.

"Don't you remember?" she asked him. "I was there investigating the disappearance of another one of your wife's invisible pets because you, being the giant pain in my arse you are, filed an actual report just to spite me."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I was just being a loving and supportive husband, and I couldn't investigate my own house."

"Your wife is mental when it comes to those things, and you know it! Diggory didn't even know what nargles _were_. And since it was _your _bloody house, he made _me _look into it. It was embarrassing trying to explain the situation without making any of us look out of our minds for indulging Luna."

"_You're dating Malfoy?!" Ginny screamed when Luna was caught outside of Honeydukes holding the Draco's hand as they strolled through the village during the first Hogsmeade Weekend following the return for their final year of Hogwarts. Most, like Harry and Ron, had opted out of going back to school, but Hermione was adamant about returning, especially since Professor McGonagall had given her the position of Head Girl._

_Unfortunately, she had to share a common room with the Head Boy—Draco Malfoy—who started dating Luna two weeks into the term._

"_His family held you captive in their home!" Ginny said as Hermione tried to figure out when, exactly, the pair had hashed out their obvious differences and found enough similarities to build a relationship upon._

_Luna—bless her—smiled at them both, told them that when she was in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, Draco had brought her cake. Cake!_

"_Must have been some cake," Hermione voiced quietly, and both Draco and Luna smiled in a way that she prayed to God was not a sexual inside joke between the two._

"She's eccentric," Draco said, defending his wife of two years. "And yes, I do remember you saving my bloody life then, thank you."

When Hermione had shown up at the Manor, Draco directed her away from the drawing room to the spot where Luna had last seen the nargles when the wards alerted him that someone else had arrived. Despite trying to fix the wards after Lucius had been sent to Azkaban and Narcissa relocated to France, Antonin Dolohov made his way into Malfoy Manor only to be put down with a Stunning Spell from Hermione when his back was turned. He had been too focused on trying to use the Cruciatus Curse on Draco to hear her footsteps.

"I had to have a Curse-Breaker come and reset the wards around the Manor after that incident. Speaking of which and, more importantly, back to my original point, I saved your life six months ago when we were called on that thing with the Muggles in London. You were attacked, and I _saved your life_," Draco said, adding emphasis to the "saving of the life" portion of his song and dance.

She furrowed her brows in confusion. "What thing in London? Wait. Are you talking about Hyde Park?" she asked, chuckling at the memory. "Where a flock of ducks waddled over, you screamed at the sight of them, and then shoved me into the pond?"

Draco's jaw ticked. "_Were_ducks."

Hermione threw her head back and laughed. "There's no such thing as wereducks. You're afraid of quacking birds, you prat."

Even though she had been knee deep and wet in a dirty pond, the memory of Draco Malfoy running away from a few small birds looking for spare bits of bread had been set aside in a phial, ready for a Pensieve anytime she had a bad day and needed some cheering up.

"How are you afraid of harmless birds? I've had misplaced complaints come across my desk about that wretched eagle owl of yours trying to hunt hippogriffs, which you are _also _afraid of, and—"

"First," Draco interrupted, his tone bitter, "Malfoys aren't afraid of things. Second, you leave Bubo alone. Third, we both know that if Malfoys _were _afraid of things—which we're not—I would have a bloody good reason to be afraid of hippogriffs." He unconsciously scratched at a small scar on his arm from where Buckbeak had attacked him in third year. "And my _loyal _familiar has every right to hunt them. You're missing the point. The point is: wereducks exists, one tried to attack you, I saved your life, and now you owe me a life debt."

Hermione smiled but rolled her eyes, tempted to indulge him if only to find out what he wanted. "Well, despite you being your typical irritating self, I'm actually intrigued that you'd go through _this _much effort to secure a favour from me. Even though you can't actually call it a favour."

He glowered at her. A look that had not been intimidating in school and had not changed over the years.

"It's not," he insisted.

She took a sip of her drink and grimaced as the taste of cold coffee swept across her tongue. She quickly swallowed it as a thought occurred to her. "Wait, what do you mean _speaking of which_?'"

"Speaking of what?"

"You said 'speaking of which' when we were talking about Dolohov breaking through your wards. You said, 'speaking of which' and then started babbling about the pretend life debt I owe you."

"It's real."

Hermione groaned as she felt her patience running thin. She was regretting taking a long lunch, but he had asked nicely for once—that should have been an indicator at the time that he wanted something from her, and she'd gone along with it. A part of her had been wondering if he was planning on asking her to be the godmother to his and Luna's firstborn child. The idea that she would be picked over Pansy had her giddy enough to accept the idea of tying herself to a Malfoy for the rest of her life in such a way.

"What does it have to do with Dolohov?"

"Nothing," Draco said and looked at her like she was stupid for not keeping up with him. "It has to do with the Curse-Breaker."

"Bill?"

"Weasley?" he scoffed. "Why would I hire a Weasley to come and fuck with my wards? They were _already _broken, I didn't need them third-rate as well. Weasleys are terrible at almost everything they do."

"I should tell Ginny you said that."

Draco, smart man that he was, had the grace to respect the threat. "Fine, not _everything _they do. Red's talented with balls and a bit of wood between her thighs. She's earned me a great deal of Galleons over the years. I also hear she plays Quidditch."

Hermione made a gagging noise. "I should tell Blaise you said that."

"By all means." Draco shrugged, clearly not threatened in the slightest. "It's a borrowed joke from _his _repertoire. The point is though, Ginny plays Quidditch like a pro—which is helpful since she happens to _be _one—but Blaise says he can't eat anything the witch cooks for fear of food poisoning. Weasels are naturally good at _one _thing, and everything else is a potential cluster fuck."

Hermione smirked. "You're admitting that Ron's good at something?"

"Knocking up Pansy seems to be something he's skilled at. Then again, he's also accident prone, so . . ."

The two shared an uncomfortable laugh.

When the war was over and Hermione and Ron decided to give a relationship a shot, it was less than two months later that they awkwardly parted ways to save their friendship. Three months and a full bottle of firewhisky later, Ron had woken up in a room at the Leaky Cauldron next to Pansy Parkinson. Near December, when she showed up at the Burrow with a prenatal confirmation report from St Mungo's, Molly hit Ron over the head with the morning's _Daily Prophet_ and invited Pansy in for lunch to plan a wedding.

"Back to your point—or _my _point," Hermione said. "Bill's the best Curse-Breaker that Gringott's has. He put up the wards around _my _flat. And the Burrow. And Ron and Pansy's place. And Harry and Daphne's!"

"_Did you know that Blaise and Daphne dated at Hogwarts?" Ginny asked Harry._

_They had all gotten together to help move Daphne into Grimmauld Place, and while the boys were all out back taking a break with a couple of butterbeers and Daphne was upstairs showing Pansy how she planned to redecorate the bedroom, Hermione and Ginny sat down with Harry in the dining room to look through the old china cupboard to see if space could be made for Daphne's heirlooms._

"_Did they?" Harry asked. "That's weird."_

"_That our significant others slept together probably the same year that _we _were sleeping together?" Ginny asked with a smirk. "Yeah, a little weird."_

"_It's weird that you two are so open about this in front of me," Hermione commented as she threw out an old platter that had the words of House Black engraved in the centre of it, watching with amusement as it shattered in the metal bin._

_It was not weird at all, though. An hour later, when all of the boxes had been put away, Bill stopped in to set up the wards around the house and, once he left, everyone sat down around the large dining room table for dinner. Draco with Luna sitting on his lap, Blaise and Ginny in the same position on the other side of the table, Ron trying to wrangle his four-year-old son, Artie, into his chair between him and a pregnant Pansy, and Harry and Daphne at the other end, looking besotted with one another._

_And Hermione. Hermione was always there too._

"And should I ever purchase a lovely _hovel _of my own, I will hire the were-Weasley immediately," Draco smirked as he spoke. "But I have a _manor _and a very pretty and pregnant wife to keep protected. If _my _wards fail, I stand to actually lose something because, as you so sweetly put it, Luna is mental. Her invisible friends won't stand guard should Death Eaters come knocking. No one wants to break into the giant Weasel coop, Daphne has the Chosen One at her beck and call for protection, and Pansy's shrill voice is better than any Caterwauling Charm I've ever heard. Fuck . . ." Draco growled impatiently. "What was my point?"

"Speaking of which."

"Yes!" He snapped his fingers. "Speaking of which! Curse-Breakers! Yes, I hired Theo to fix my wards."

Hermione stared at him, having no idea what point he was trying to make. "Theo? Theodore _Nott_? I didn't know he was a Curse-Breaker," she said thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I knew he was still—." She paused abruptly when she looked up and saw Draco suddenly tense at her words. "Are you okay?"

He cleared his throat and gave a curt nod, his posture still stiff. "Theo's not just _any _Curse-Breaker. He's the best. He does freelance work because he's so expensive; even Gringott's won't hire him unless their onstaff servants, like Weasley, can't crack the codes."

"This has to do with your fake life debt because . . . ?"

"It's real."

"Draco!"

Draco smirked, clearly pleased with himself for breaking her resolve. "Did you know that Theo graduated top of our class?" he asked casually, glancing down into his half-empty drink and swirling the contents with the thin, red straw. "He's very intelligent."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "_I_ graduated top of our class," she said, correcting him, "and Nott didn't even come back for our eighth year."

"He took his N.E.W.T.s through correspondence," Draco said, shrugging. "He's also very rich. And handsome. Or so I'm told. Luna says she took a fancy. He has dark hair and blue eyes, and she says that since he's taller than me and . . ." He said the words in a mocking tone and then, when he caught Hermione chuckling at him, he cleared his throat. "I don't have a complex about it. Witches think he's fit, leave it at that."

She sighed and leant forward, putting her elbows on the table and lacing her fingers. "What are you doing? Why does this feel like a precursor to a blind date? Why do I feel like you're channelling your inner Pansy?"

"I'm calling in your life debt."

"I don't owe you a bloody life debt, Malfoy!"

"I need you to marry Theo."

Hermione's mouth fell open. Did she hear that correctly?

"What?" she said, staring across the table at him, regretting—and not for the first time—ever making a truce with the Slytherin after the war ended. Surely, she could be friends with people less high maintenance and much more stable than Draco Malfoy. "Did someone Confund you? Has Luna been brewing that strange fermented tea again? You know she shouldn't be allowed around a cauldron, especially when she's pregnant. The fumes alone could cause a number of prenatal problems that—"

"Granger," he said again, reaching across the table and actually taking her arm to grab her attention, effectively cutting her words right off.

The physical gesture had her panicking. Draco did not touch people. Correction—Draco touched Luna affectionately, touched his Slytherin friends every so often with a pat on the back or a punch to the shoulder and, when it bothered Ron, he would hug Artie. But unless he was saving her life by catching her from falling off of a broom or pushing her into a pond to escape wereducks, Draco _never _touched Hermione.

She glanced down at the place where his hand held her. She was sure he had not noticed it at first, but his fingers accidentally brushed against the raised scar on her forearm, and she watched him tense at the realisation. _This _was why Draco never touched her. It reminded him.

He quickly pulled away.

"You're kind of scaring me here, Malfoy," Hermione whispered at the look of genuine concern in his eyes.

He took a breath and then finally said, "I need you to marry my best friend because if you don't, he's going to die."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

**March 2004**

Hermione stared across the table. "Beg your pardon?"

"I need you to marry Theo," Draco repeated his request—no, _demand_. Fake life debt and everything.

"Caught that bit," she said irritably. "Go back to the 'or he's going to die' portion of the worst marriage proposal ever."

Draco sighed and began picking at the paper coffee cup with his thumbnail, a nervous habit he had picked up years earlier whenever they went out in Wizarding areas of Britain and people recognised him for being a former Death Eater. Few people had the nerve to say anything, especially if he was with her or any number of other Gryffindors or members of Dumbledore's Army that he got suckered into befriending thanks to Luna. Still, the nervous habit remained.

"Theo's sick," he said, not even trying to do that thing all Slytherins did when they were upset about something and put on an emotionless mask of indifference to hide their feelings that made them vulnerable.

She shook her head, trying to work her way around the fact that Draco was genuinely upset and allowing her to see it—which was a miracle in and of itself. "So get him a Healer, not a wife."

He looked up from his torn paper cup and glared at her. "Would you shut up for a minute?"

Hermione frowned, feeling genuinely guilty. "Sorry. Is your friend really dying?"

"It's a curse that's killing him. Considering he's a Curse-Breaker and hasn't figured out how to cure himself, we're . . ." Draco sighed and rubbed at his forehead, tussling his hair a touch as he tried to massage out the obvious stress-induced headache.

Instinctively, Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out a small plastic bottle, popping the top and handing over two pills, grateful when he took them willingly as opposed to the usual fit he threw anytime she tried to "poison him with Muggle nonsense."

"We're not hopeful," he said quietly after throwing back the painkillers and drinking the rest of his cold coffee, taking care not to sip from the torn edges or risk spilling it on his white silk shirt.

"We?"

"Blaise knows. Pansy and Daphne too. We've known about this for a while."

Despite working with magical beings and creatures for the past several years, Hermione considered herself well educated in curses considering she spent the majority of her childhood being Harry Potter's best friend. Dealing with Dark Magic pretty much came with the job description.

"Was it something he touched? I know that Curse-Breakers deal with Dark Artifacts all the time."

Draco shook his head. "No. He was cursed by someone."

"Can you find the person? I know it's a longshot, but they might have the cure. Surely between the lot of you, money wouldn't be a problem if that's all the person wanted." As the thought occurred to her, she asked, "Is this revenge?"

"Oh, it's most certainly revenge," Draco said bitterly. "But finding the person who cursed him won't help."

"Why not?"

He slowly looked up at her, his grey eyes the light colour of sunshine hidden behind storm clouds. His lips were tight, and his jaw ticked, and he took a breath before speaking again. "Because Potter killed him."

She felt an old familiar sense of dread sink into the pit of her stomach. "Riddle cursed Nott?" she asked and Draco nodded. "It's been . . . Draco it's been almost six years. It's taken _that _long for this curse to take effect?"

"No, it's taken almost _seven _years," he corrected her. "Theo was cursed when he took the Dark Mark just before we all went back to Hogwarts and you and the dastardly duo went on the run."

"Seven years?" She took into account the relevance of the number in reference to Arithmancy. Seven was the most powerful magical number. Seven Horcruxes.

"What can I say, the Dark Lord had a fetish for magical numbers."

Hermione cringed angrily. "Don't call him that. He wasn't any _Lord_. Say Voldemort," she said and waited for Draco to flinch—because he still did all these years later. "If you can't manage that, call him Tom Riddle."

He stared at her the way he used to when they were younger; it unnerved her.

"Granger, the man fed a woman to his snake on my dining room table. You don't call that bloke 'Tom.' And stop distracting me. So . . . _Riddle_," Draco said scathingly as he rolled his eyes, "was completely mental when he came back at the end of fourth year. I was at Hogwarts most of the time, but when I was home . . . let's just say he was a lovely example for Bellatrix."

Hermione's posture stiffened. "Noted."

"Our guess is that he didn't trust his followers by the end which, considering the Snape factor, was probably smart thinking on his part. When the new generation of Death Eaters took the Dark Mark, he layered in a curse that slowly, over seven years, drains a person's magical core."

Hermione could not stop herself from gasping.

"And you know what happens when a core is depleted."

She nodded. "You die."

It was why the Killing Curse was so effective. Unlike other curses that attack the body, the Killing Curse went straight for the magical core. It was one of the reasons Unspeakables were constantly trying to approach Harry, desperate to find out how he had survived the curse twice.

"Five points to Gryffindor," Draco said. "We figure that Riddle thought he would win the war, and if any of our parents tried to usurp him, he could hold us hostage. We were already infected with the curse when we took the Mark, so it's not like he would have had to put much effort into threatening us. All he had to do is withhold the cure to ensure their loyalty. Fortunately, for the rest of the world—and _unfortunate _for those he Marked—Potter won, and the cure died with Riddle."

"So, how are _you _alive? You took the Dark Mark _eight _years ago."

She watched him twist his wedding band around his finger as he ignored her question and continued his tale. "We first suspected something had happened when Warrington died."

Hermione furrowed her brow, searching her memory for the name. "Cassius Warrington. I remember that case," she said after a few seconds. "Harry worked on it. They thought he'd been poisoned."

"Similar effects as the curse. They were never able to trace anything though. _He _wasn't the first to die. Flint was."

"Marcus? He died in a Quidditch accident, everyone knows that. Ginny was there when it happened."

It had been all over the _Daily Prophet_ for weeks. The famous Quidditch-star-turned-addict showed up to a game loaded on a multitude of things they later found in his blood. In the middle of a match—and not even an important one—Marcus slipped off of his broom, did nothing to save himself, and crashed into the ground after falling a good two-hundred feet, breaking his neck.

"Yes, they said he had been drinking, which was true," Draco admitted. "But Flint's mother told Daphne that, prior to his death, all he did was drink because it numbed the pain. Potions weren't working."

"Oh my God."

"Then Montague died a week after Warrington, and we all knew it was a pattern. But then Pucey survived long enough to make it to his wedding."

"Daphne's sister, right?"

Draco nodded, picking at his cup again. "He was sick right up until the bonding ceremony. Then, just like that, Adrian was fine and never had another problem. We stopped worrying until last year when it was leading up to the seventh year since _I_ took the Dark Mark. I waited to get sick." He wore a guilty expression on his face. Hermione assumed that during his moments of anxiety Draco would take his worries out on Luna, who very likely was nothing but the adoring and caring person that she was, irritable husband be damned. "I waited for something bad to happen, but nothing did. The anniversary of the day I took the Mark came and went. So, we thought we'd been paranoid about the others."

Hermione frowned. "I'm sensing an 'until' coming up."

"Until just before Christmas when Goyle died. He and Crabbe had taken the Mark over the holidays during sixth year. Healers at St Mungo's couldn't figure out what killed him, but _we _all knew."

Hermione wanted to offer him comfort but knew better. That was not their friendship. She assumed he had Luna for that or, at the very least Pansy and Daphne.

"Theo started getting sick about two weeks later."

"But you and Pucey were fine? Are you sure the curse wasn't specific to individuals? Your father was technically Voldemort's right hand, maybe you were spared," she suggested and then immediately regretted it when she was met with a glare.

"Granger," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation as though they'd had this conversation before, "if it was given to specific individuals, _I _would have been the first gone just to make a point. No, Pucey and I were saved because of Astoria and Luna."

She made a face of disbelief and confusion at his words, curious as to how two witches with no experience in curses or Dark Magic had . . . "Mother of Merlin! The bonding ceremony!"

Draco nodded and touched the tip of his nose with his index finger. "The curse drains our magical cores, but a marriage bonds our cores together with our wives. The witches are completely unaffected," he said before she had a chance to wonder about contamination or potential contagion. "Pucey and I did a few tests and found that the longer we're married, the stronger our cores become. They're not only keeping us alive, they're _curing _us."

She nodded in understanding. "So you need Theo to get married to save his life."

He sighed in what sounded like relief, and Hermione could not help but wonder how many times he'd had to tell this story.

"And we would have had more time to look for a witch, but Theo, the fucker, up and ran off at the beginning of January, likely hiding from the truth," Draco said bitterly. "He got back two days ago, locked himself behind the wards of his house, and won't come out. He's letting himself die."

She understood the anger and sadness in Draco's tone. She remembered she and Ron shared a similar one years ago when Harry up and disappeared in the middle of battle to wander off into the Forbidden Forest to just let himself die. Being friends with someone like that took its toll over the years.

"Why me?" she blurted out.

Draco winced, looking uncomfortable. "Because every other witch we know is either married or has a problem with former Death Eaters. Don't think we haven't tried asking others. Blaise worked his charm all over Britain and even hung around the Three Broomsticks to try and grab the attention of the witches that will graduate Hogwarts this year. No takers."

She glowered at him, completely offended. "So I'm the last straw? The filthy Mudblood that's not worthy to marry one of you precious boys until it's a matter of life or death?"

"Shut up, Granger," Draco snapped at her. "None of us have brought up that shit for years except for Pansy and, in her defence, you _did _tell her she was being a cow. Besides, Theo's not like that."

Hermione scoffed. "Not like _what_? The rest of you?"

"Yes," Draco answered coolly. "Or how we _used _to be. Theo never cared."

She had trouble believing that, figuring that Draco would do just about anything at this point to trick her into marrying his friend.

"He still took the Mark," she insisted. "And I've had the unfortunate circumstance of meeting his father several times," she said as she recalled the Department of Mysteries and the final Battle of Hogwarts. Theo's father was not a wholly stable individual that Hermione often categorised alongside others like the Lestrange brothers and Bellatrix. Dark Magic and dementors never did mix well.

"Malfoy, I'm . . . I'm sorry, but I can't _marry _Nott. He's a _stranger_. We'd be bonded for _life_. There's no divorce in the Wizarding world. And it sounds to me like he's made his decision." She took a breath and then stood, the discomfort and guilt were already eating away at her, and she knew that Draco knew this would happen. Her bleeding Gryffindor heart.

"Granger, don't leave."

When she made for the door, he shouted, "Please!"

The desperation in his voice was something she had never heard before. She turned back and watched as he corrected his expression to hide the fact that he had just literally _begged _her for something.

"Just . . ." He clenched his teeth, reeling his pride back in place. "Just think about it."

"Draco—"

"Granger, if we don't figure something out, Daphne says she's going to break it off with Potter and marry Theo herself. We'll Imperius him to the ceremony if we need to. I won't allow that fucking psychopath to kill another one of my friends," Draco snarled, drawing the attention of several nearby Muggles. A quick glare in their direction and they all turned their attentions back to whatever it was they had been doing before Draco started shouting about psychopaths.

Hermione, shocked by the threat—and it very clearly was a threat—shook her head. "No. Daphne loves Harry. She wouldn't throw her life away like that to—"

"Save a friend?" Draco raised a questioning brow. "What would _you _sacrifice to save a friend, Granger?"

She ran the pad of her thumb over the raised scar on her forearm, remembering the pain and the anguish from Bellatrix's Cruciatus Curse and the sharp stab of her dagger. But most of all, she remembered the feeling of a strange relief when she had been separated from Harry and Ron in Malfoy Manor.

"_Leave the girl,"_ Bellatrix had said. The first thing that Hermione thought was: _If I die, maybe Harry and Ron will have a chance._

"I . . . I'll think about it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

**March 5th, 2004**

She fled from Draco and the cafe as quickly as possible, the promise that she would consider marrying his friend—a perfect stranger as far as she was concerned—lingered in the air. She would go enjoy the relaxing weekly family dinners held at her parent's home, and then she would return to her flat and figure out how to break it to Draco that there was no way in hell she was going to tie herself to Theodore Nott for the rest of her life. Bind herself and her _magical core_ to him? No way. Maybe she would get in contact with Bill Weasley and see if there were better Curse-Breakers than Nott to look at the curse of the Dark Mark.

A warm cup of tea, some biscuits, and a night in with some books and research was just the thing she needed to distract her from the guilt that Draco had put on her.

Trouble was . . . he was not wrong—which she hated to admit—about her self-sacrificing tendencies.

Working with her, not to mention going to school with her for seven years, had taught the Slytherin that Hermione was willing to risk her own life to save another. Her crusade to free house-elves during fourth year never truly disappeared, and she had actually ended up in a public duel with an abusive house-elf owner a year earlier that ended with Draco needing to rush her to St Mungo's after a particularly nasty Slicing Hex. Harry'd had to arrest her opponent.

"_You're an idiot," Draco told her as the Healer magically stitched the skin of her arm back together._

_Ron carried in Artie, who was dealing with a mild case of Dragon Pox. "Piss off, Malfoy."_

_Artie giggled. "Piss off, Mowfoy."_

"_Shit. Don't let Mummy hear you say that," Ron told his son, who laughed loudly and then sneezed, blowing sparks out of his nose and catching Ron's robes on fire. "Fuck, fuck! Bloody Dragon Pox! Artie, take the potion."_

"_No!" the boy screamed hysterically._

_Hermione laughed at the sight, wincing only slightly when the Healer finished on her arm. "Come see Aunt Hermione," she said and opened her free arm to the green-faced little boy._

"_Daddy said 'shit,'" Artie whispered as though it were a secret. "Mummy's gonna be mad."_

"_Yes, she is." Hermione grinned and took the potion from Ron's hands. She held it out for Artie, who took it from her without a fuss—his father looking on incredulously._

_Draco rolled his eyes. "Saving house-elves and werewolves, and now she's cuddling with a Dragon Pox-infested ankle-biter. Merlin, Granger, do you have any self-preservation or is your life all about letting the other guy get ahead?"_

She would do just about anything to save someone's life. But marriage? After all she had gone through during the war, didn't she at least deserve something romantically normal? Couldn't she have devotion like Draco and Luna? Passion like Blaise and Ginny? Love like Harry and Daphne? And . . . whatever it was that Ron and Pansy had.

Draco had said that Daphne was willing to end her engagement in order to marry Theo. That was cruel for him to throw that card on the table. Hermione almost felt as though she were being blackmailed—Harry's love life being held hostage in exchange for her own. Merlin help her, she knew she would do it too if it came down to that. Harry deserved to have his happily ever after, and Hermione would be damned if anyone got in the way of that.

Her own problems were quickly pushed aside when she arrived at her parents home, Apparating at a point down the street and walking the rest of the way. Despite saying that they were still comfortable with magic—even though they had been manipulated with it by their own daughter—Hermione knew it made them uneasy sometimes. She had Apparated into their living room once and scared her mother so badly that both of them ended up crying over the ordeal.

"How's work, sweetheart?" her father asked her over dinner.

Brown rice and steamed veggies filled up half of their plates instead of the usually delectable lasagnas her mother would make or their favourite Chinese takeaway that she knew her father preferred. While her parents did not indulge in the type of rich foods that were usually found at a Weasley Sunday meals, Hermione could not recall seeing a salad at the dinner table since she was nine. The salad currently in front of her did not even have a dressing.

She glanced up at her mother, who was far too skinny on her own to even _consider _losing weight, and her father had appeared to have lost a stone or two over the past few years. Hermione attributed that to the stress of finding out everything that happened during the war or, at least, what she was willing to tell them.

"Are you two on a diet?"

Her mother cracked an uneasy smile. "Don't be silly, darling," she said and moved the vegetables around on her plate, not actually eating them. "We're just trying to be a bit more health conscious."

_Lie._ Hermione knew it immediately. Working with Draco had a lot of negatives, but one pro was that she was taught how to spot a lie by a master of the trade. But why would her mother lie about food?

"What's going on?"

"How's work?" her father repeated his question. "Still getting along with that rotten little bully you went to school with?"

"What are you two hiding?"

Her mother smiled and cleared her throat. "Has Ron's wife given birth yet? Wasn't she due sometime this spring?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Next month. Why are you both lying to me?"

Sighing deeply, her father stood from the table, making his way into the kitchen and returning moments later with an old bottle of scotch and two shot glasses. He poured out the drinks, handing one to Hermione and placing the other in front of himself. Her mother tapped the table beside her with a finger and raised a challenging eyebrow at her husband. He scowled at her, silently pleading, but she tapped the table harder until he sighed defeatedly and pushed his drink to his wife and left to grab himself a new glass.

Hermione threw back the drink, figuring that she would need it.

She did.

". . . hadn't been feeling well for some time now . . . Doctors didn't know what it was . . ."

She felt the dining room walls closing in on her.

" . . . didn't want to worry you . . ."

Her heart pounded hard against her chest and she could feel the pulse in the side of her head throbbing, drowning out most of her parents' words.

". . . pain isn't so bad these days, though you can never tell if that's a good sign, or so they say . . ."

Certain words and phrases she picked up on in between heartbeats and panicked breaths but one stuck out louder than a Caterwauling Charm:

_Terminal_.

"Did _I _do this?" Hermione broke an awkward silence when her parents had finally stopped speaking. "Is this because of the . . ." she choked on a gasp, unable to continue speaking.

"No," her mother insisted. "It's rare, and they . . . they just don't know what to do about it anymore. It had nothing to do with you altering our memories. It has nothing to do with magic."

Hermione looked down as her mother held her hands, sitting beside her on the sofa. When had they moved into the other room? Had her mother's hands always been so small? Why was _she _comforting _her_? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't she be doing something to fix this? She was a witch for Merlin's sake!

"Maybe magic can . . . We should go to St Mungo's and—"

"No."

Hermione's blurry eyes looked up and she blinked away the tears to see her father standing at the end of the sofa.

"It's not that we don't trust magic, rather . . . we've already explored that option," he confessed. "We've kept in contact with Minerva and Poppy over the years. Our checkups after you put our memories back were all done through them. So when your mother took ill, and the doctors couldn't do anything, we sought them out. Thought maybe one of your Healers could do something."

"And?"

He shook his head.

She took a breath, readying herself for battle, and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. "So what do we do now?" Her parents remained silent. She widened her eyes. "What do we do now?" she asked again, this time louder.

"Nothing," her mother replied softly.

"Helen," Hermione's father whispered.

"No. Richard, get her the book. She'll want to see it."

He left the room once again returning moments later with a large three-ring binder in his hands, overflowing with papers. "This is everything regarding your mother's illness. Every prescription, notes from every doctor and specialist we've seen, extra research we've done through medical journals and calling up friends from University. The whole buggering lot of it. We knew you'd want to research it all yourself, but . . . princess, don't get your hopes up," he said through a broken voice.

"They haven't said how long I've got," her mother said, "but to be honest, I'd rather not know. I'd rather live each day as normally as possible. That's my decision and I would like everyone to respect that. Now, tell us how work is going."

Hermione frowned, trying to wrap her head around everything that she had just been told. She summoned her Gryffindor bravery, more sure than ever that had her mother been born a witch, she would have been sorted into the House of Godric. She took another slow breath and then cleared her throat. "I . . . I finally got the Wizengamot to agree to lower the cost for Wolfsbane Potion."

"Oh!" her mother exclaimed joyfully, an action that shocked the hell out of Hermione, who was still wondering how she could be so calm and collected about the prospect of dying. "Will that help . . . Lupin was it? He was always such a nice man."

Hermione slowly nodded her head, which was buzzing. "Yes, he, umm, he's the one who's been working with me and—I'm sorry, I can't . . . I can't do this."

Clutching Hermione's hand, her mother pleaded, "I need things to be normal. I don't want to be sad or afraid. I'd like to continue having a relationship with my daughter, knowing about her life and living on as regularly as possible. You grew up too fast because of circumstances you couldn't control, and I don't need you to suddenly have your life filled up with taking care of me. You're only twenty-five; you need to do normal things. I don't want regrets. I . . . I already have too many."

Looking at her mother, Hermione could finally see the cracks in the facade that was showing through tired eyes. "You'll have no regrets. I swear it."

Her mother patted her hand. "Oh, I will, and I'll make peace with never . . . never seeing . . . you have children of your own or get married or . . ." And the tears finally spilt over.

Hermione stepped back away from the sofa as her father came to take his place at her mother's side, pulling her into his arms. Standing there useless, mouth open, her brain ran a million miles a second as she tried to focus on any one thing to fix what had happened. Her mother was dying, there was nothing she could do the save her, and now she had inadvertently caused a sick woman to burst into tears. But she had to be brave. Gryffindors were brave. Brave, chivalrous, willful, daring and . . . reckless.

_Oh, this is a bad idea_. The thought ran through her brain just as the words blurted out of her mouth: "I'm engaged."

Her parents turned and stared at her wide-eyed. Her mother stopped crying.

_Well, at least _that _worked_, Hermione thought to herself just as they started bombarding her with questions.

"He, umm, it was rather quick, actually. Very unlike me, yes I know," she said, feeling flustered. "His name is Theodore Nott. Yes, we went to Hogwarts together, but different Houses. What's that? Umm, Slytherin. No, not one of the boys that was mean to me. We don't really—_didn't_—didn't really know one another well . . . back then. Daddy, could I have another drink? How'd we get together?" She started laughing nervously. "Umm, Draco, actually. Draco set us up. Set _me _up. Oh, thank God," she said as her father placed another drink in her hand and she guzzled it down quickly.

* * *

Hermione swore loudly as she tumbled through the designated fireplace at Malfoy Manor, green flames fading behind her. Her hair was dishevelled and her mascara smeared down her face, the lipstick she had been wearing all but vanished from sight, left behind on a scattering of random shot glasses and pints at the Leaky Cauldron where she had gone after leaving her parents house.

"_I'm getting married!" Hermione shouted to the crowded pub, raising a glass of firewhisky in toast. Cheers went up all around her, and several people bought her a congratulatory beverage._

_A wizard grinned at her from one of the tables. "Who's the lucky bloke, pretty lady?"_

"_I have no fucking idea. I don't remember ever meeting the bastard," she said with a laugh and drained the pint glass in front of her, unaware that it belonged to someone else._

_Hannah eventually pushed her through the Floo after cutting her off, likely shocked when Hermione yelled, "Malfoy Manor!" before disappearing._

"Granger? Fucking hell, are you out of your mind?" Draco shouted when he stumbled upon her, lit wand in hand. "Do you know what bloody time it is?"

"I think she's drunk, Draco," Luna said quietly as she walked up behind her husband. "I take it you told her about Theo?"

He reluctantly nodded, looking mildly guilty as Luna eyed him. Clearly they'd had a plan about how to approach the situation and he had gone off script.

Hermione giggled from her place on the cold, marble floor as the room began to spin around her, her vision going dark. "You . . . You going to be my bridesmaid, Luna? I think Harry and Ron would look terrible in taffeta."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

**March 6th, 2004**

When Hermione woke up and found herself in a strange bedroom, she immediately began to panic. She remembered the horrible lunch with Draco and the devastating dinner with her parents followed up with a trip to the Leaky; that was where she started to lose track of her memories. Her head throbbed as she turned, pleading to the gods for reprieve. She was joyful at the sight of a vial of Pain Relief Potion sitting on the bedside table on top of a note. Forgetting everything that Mad-Eye Moody had taught her—and regardless of not knowing where she had ended up—Hermione drank the potion before even glancing twice at the parchment.

She groaned in relief as the pain slightly abated and then lazily reached for the note.

_Hermione,_

_Hope you're feeling better. We weren't sure where you'd come from before the Leaky Cauldron, so there's a Contraceptive Potion in the drawer—just in case._

_Luna_

"Fuck," Hermione threw the comforter over her head and angrily stomped her feet into the mattress. She had ended up at Malfoy Manor. Of all places. Drunk. She quietly prayed that Draco had not been the one to find her; then again, it was not as though he and Luna kept secrets from one another.

She would never live to hear the end of this.

There was a soft pop and the gentle clearing of a throat.

Hermione peeked out from under the covers and sighed irritably at the sight of a little house-elf smiling brightly at her. "Missy Granger?" it said, far too chipper for Hermione's liking. "Master—"

"Draco," Hermione corrected it.

"—and Mistress—"

"Luna."

"—have eaten theys breakfast, but theys asked Swishy to see if Missy Granger was hungry."

Hermione folded down the blanket and looked at the little elf with sympathetic eyes. "Are there any house-elves named Andrew or Clarke? Jessica or Gertrude?" It was not like she had room to judge. "Swishy, if you wouldn't mind directing me to the kitchen, I'd be happy to fix my own breakfa—" she started to say, but the elf Disapparated, leaving behind another note.

_Granger,_

_The house-elves have been instructed to do the exact opposite of anything and everything you say._

_D.M._

"Prat," she mumbled and then crawled out of bed, determined to leave before Swishy—who she was certain Luna named—came back with a meal in tow.

Cringing at the bright light from a nearby window, Hermione searched for her wand, happy to see it on the bedside table behind a vase with orange flowers in it. She made her way out of the room, shutting every window on her way to the parlour where she knew the young Missus Malfoy spent most of her time visiting with elves—or creatures as yet unseen by anyone besides Luna herself.

Hermione smiled as she entered the room. Luna was lying on the soft bench in a little nook by the window, balancing a teacup on her swollen belly and looking positively angelic. While Luna's pregnancy was pure magic, Pansy's was a living nightmare and Ron had vowed to never get her pregnant again.

Halfway through her pregnancy with Artie, Ron genuinely suggested that they have a specialist check to see if his wife had happened upon a magical creature inheritance and ended up part banshee.

"_It happens!" Ron said, dark circles beneath his eyes, half-crazed due to lack of sleep thanks to a sick and angry wife. "Fleur said that sometimes male veela don't transform until they're fully grown and then BAM! Crazy big violent birds!"_

Ginny and Hermione had tucked Ron away inside a silence-charmed room at Grimmauld Place to sleep while they treated Pansy to a spa day and a trip to a midwife where she was given magical herbs for her nausea and mood swings.

So far, _Draco's _only complaint during _Luna's _pregnancy was that she still insisted on wearing clothes around the house.

The morning sunlight was just bright enough that it did not completely make Hermione's slowly disappearing hangover worse. "Did I do anything embarrassing?" She crawled onto the bench beside Luna and curled into a ball, tugging a nearby fleece blanket up and over her legs.

"You were lovely as always, Hermione," Luna said in that sweet tone that often worried Hermione. Luna found nearly _everything _lovely. She fell in love with her husband when she was a prisoner in his dungeons, and now she was Lady of the Manor where said dungeons still existed—though had long since been closed off.

Hermione cringed. "How bad was it?"

"I forbade Draco from getting the camera. And I double-checked that he didn't include anything embarrassing or distrustful in the contract."

Hermione sighed in relief. "Thank you, Luna, you're really a—Wait, what contract?" she asked, sitting up straight.

"The marriage contract. For you and Theo."

"Luna . . . did I _sign _anything last night?"

The doe-eyed Ravenclaw smiled whimsically and said, "I saw a white pigeon flying around your flat last September."

Hermione stared at her friend, her left eye twitching. "Luna . . . did I sign a marriage contract?"

Luna nodded along to each of Hermione's syllables as she slowly spoke them for the sake of clarity. After a moment, Luna replied, "I planted some anemones and stephanotises in the garden a month late this year."

Hermione leant back and repeatedly banged her head on the wall. There was a scoffing sound from the doorway and she opened her eyes to see Draco walk through wearing expensive day robes over a casual t-shirt and high-end Muggle jeans. The image was hilarious when she remembered the first time Luna had taken him shopping in Muggle London. It took begging, pleading, and eventual threats just to get him into the store; one side-eyed wink from Luna, and he bought out their winter collection in his size.

"You're so dramatic." Draco scowled at Hermione as he walked over to his wife, placing a kiss to her forehead. "If you weren't so thick, you'd know that she's answered your question twice. A white pigeon indicates a wedding within the year, and anemones and stephanotises—traditional flowers for weddings—generally bloom in spring, but she planted a month late."

Hermione scowled at the expression on his face silently indicating that she was stupid. "You know I don't believe in Divination." Luna's earlier words filtered back through her brain and she jumped off the bench and poked Draco in the chest, emphasising each word, "A marriage contract! Malfoy, what did I sign?"

"Nothing binding," Draco said, brandishing his wand, just in case. "Yet."

"YET?" Hermione paled and all the blood felt like it rushed to her head. "Oh God, what have I done? I can't get married. I can't . . . Just because my . . ."

She stopped and remembered why she had gone drinking and what she had told her parents. Engaged. To be married. Wedding. Theo. Fuck.

"I have to get married," she whispered.

"Swishy!" Draco called, and the little house-elf appeared with a tray of breakfast pastries in hand. He plucked a danish from the tray, gesturing that the food be lowered to Hermione, who was now kneeling on the floor.

"Missy Granger needs to eat," Swishy insisted. "Would Master—"

"Draco," Hermione groaned.

"—and Mistress—

"Luna."

"—like for Swishy to feed Missy Granger?"

Hermione did not see or hear a response from either of her "friends," but she suddenly saw a small, open elf palm in front of her face holding squished pastry bits out to her as though she were a baby unicorn.

Luna giggled, Draco outright laughed, and Hermione dropped herself entirely on the floor and quietly moaned about all the poor life decisions she had made over the years—the first on her list was having befriended a Malfoy.

"Get up, Granger. Everyone should be here soon, and if you look like shit when they all arrive, Weasel's going to think that I've done something horrible to you."

"You _have_."

"I secured you a filthy rich, brilliant—"

"Handsome," Luna added.

"Handsome," Draco agreed, sounding only slightly bitter, "pureblood, top of his class husband. Do you know how much matchmakers would charge for something like this? Get up, wash your face, and take a whip to that hair and then meet us all in the large dining room for lunch." He turned on his over-priced heel and left the parlour.

Luna stood from her perch by the window. "It'll be all right, Hermione," she said with a sympathetic smile. "If Harry has taught us anything, it's that life extends beyond the realm of our understanding."

Trying to bury down the sadness that was creeping up, Hermione sighed. Of _course _Luna knew; Luna knew everything. "I don't want the others to know," she said, trying not to let her voice break. "Not yet."

"Theo really is quite fit," Luna added with a grin.

* * *

The mixed group of Gryffindor and Slytherin friends gathered for lunch where Harry and Daphne politely thanked the house-elves when the meal was served. Ginny, Blaise, and Ron followed their example while Pansy listed out a number of things that she was not supposed to be eating, insisting—until Hermione glared at her and only then did she "request"—that the elves make sure her food was prepared properly.

"You can't eat green apples?" Ginny asked, raising a confused brow.

"I don't fucking know," Pansy snipped. "Your mother is a psychopath that wants to control my every move. I ate whatever the hell I wanted with Artie, and he's just fine," she said, gesturing to the almost five-year-old, who was on his hands and knees beneath the table, barking at the passing house-elves.

"You're still on the potion, right?" Blaise whispered to Ginny.

"Fuck yes."

"So . . ." Harry loudly cleared his throat. "Why are we all here? Luna's already pregnant, so I couldn't figure out what surprise you had in store."

"Or why we had to come _here_," Ron said bitterly. Harry and even Hermione had long ago put the demons to rest, but Ron still had hang ups about the old manor where they were once held prisoner.

Draco casually sipped at his elf wine. "Oh, nothing important. I just wanted to make sure that the colours for your wedding are still cranberry and sage."

Harry blinked, clearly not knowing the answer. He looked at Daphne, who smiled and patted his thigh.

"Yes, Draco, the colours haven't changed."

"Red and green. Pretentious arsehole. Ow!" Ron frowned at Pansy while rubbing his arm. Pansy silently made threatening pinching fingers at him with one hand, using the other to gesture at their son who was still crawling around under the table.

"Very good. Then I suppose it's time that Luna and I present you our RSVP." Draco stood and handed over a signed card to Daphne whose blue eyes had widened, welling with tears. "Still on for September?"

Daphne took the card, looking at Hermione. "You're doing it? You're really . . . Oh, thank Merlin!" In an un-Slytherinly manner, she jumped from her seat and dashed around the table to embrace Hermione. "Thank you. Thank you!"

Harry stared at the sight in confusion. "I'm . . . missing something."

"A clue," Draco said.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked.

Blaise's mouth fell open.

Pansy actually stopped yelling and scowling. Instead, she looked mildly appeased. "You're really going to do it?" she asked, her voice a bit tense. "Did you sign a contract? I'm not getting my fucking hopes up for nothing, Granger. Draco, did you make her sign?"

Ron stood up, narrowing his eyes down at Draco. "What did you do?"

Draco looked over at Hermione who was patting Daphne on the back and frowning. "Didn't I tell you he'd jump to conclusions? I didn't do anything to her. Everyone lift their glasses. Let's toast to the happy couple."

Harry's brows furrowed. "What couple? I don't understand."

Hermione raised her glass when Daphne finally released her and went back to sit beside Harry. She looked in the glass, wishing it was firewhisky. "I'm getting married."

"What?" Ginny loudly blurted out. "To who? Merlin, it better not be that Muggle you met at the coffee shop! I don't care how pretty his eyes were, his hair looked ridiculous and that's saying something coming from me because I used to date _him_," she said and pointed to Harry.

"I'm . . . _apparently_—" Hermione glared at Draco, who was ignoring everyone in favour of feeding Luna sugared berries from a silver spoon. "—going to marry Theodore Nott."

"The Death Eater?" Ron shouted.

"No offence taken," Draco mumbled with a grin as Luna licked the spoon clean. He leant forward to kiss away some of the berry juice that remained on her lips. "And fuck you too, Weasel."

"Fuck!" Artie shouted from beneath the table.

"Worst godfather ever," Pansy mumbled irritably, focusing on Ron instead of Draco and her son. "Would you calm down? For all you know they met years ago, fell in love, and have been carrying on some grand affair in secret."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to lie to my friends. Theo's . . ." She sighed and looked at Daphne and Blaise for help since Pansy was being . . . Pansy, and Draco was clearly preoccupied.

"Theo's cursed," Blaise offered. "It's hard to explain, but the general idea is that the Dark Lord—"

"Voldemort," Harry, Hermione, and Ginny all corrected him simultaneously.

"Whatever. He wove a curse into the Dark Mark. Just for the younger generation. Seven years after you're Marked, you die. The only exceptions seem to be Pucey and Draco," Blaise said. "And the only thing they've got in common is that they're married."

Daphne turned to Harry, squeezing his hands. Hermione wondered if that was to prevent him from reaching for his wand. "The curse drains a person's magical core. When we're married and bonded, our cores are merged. Luna and my sister are keeping Adrian and Draco alive. Curing them. Theo . . . Theo doesn't have much time left.'

"June. He was Marked just after sixth year. I was set to get mine the next summer but you killed the bloody bastard," Blaise said, looking at Harry. He raised his glass again. "Cheers for that, by the way."

"So you want Hermione to just marry the bloke? Tell him to find someone else!" Ron shouted, his face turning red.

"I'm doing it," Hermione said. "No arguing. I have . . . I have my own reasons."

Harry frowned. "Hermione, is someone making you—?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Draco snapped.

"I didn't mean you . . . specifically," Harry admitted, looking a bit ashamed of himself. "Hermione, this just isn't like you."

"Not like her to do something drastic to save someone's life?" Daphne asked pointedly.

Harry frowned in understanding. "I just don't want her to throw her life away is all."

"Watch your mouth, Potter." Pansy glared at him. "Theo's the best of us. If I wasn't married to _this _one," she said, gesturing to Ron, "I'd _gladly _run off with Nott. It's an arranged marriage. It wasn't that long ago, we'd all be put in them by our parents. It's not a big of a deal."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her and then looked across the table at Hermione. "Is this what you want, Hermione? Really?"

She stared at her best friend, thinking of her mother and of the Slytherins, her friends—and Pansy—sitting around her already preparing to grieve for their friend, who stood at death's door. There was too much grief in the world, and Draco was right: Voldemort should not be allowed to kill another person.

"If it were me, Harry," she said. "If I were cursed, and the cure was this . . . simple," she said even though it very clearly was not. "What would you do?"

Harry frowned and looked at Daphne guiltily.

She smiled at him and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "It's okay. I feel the same way about Theo. That's why I'm so happy that Hermione's doing this."

Harry nodded but remained silent.

"Right then." Draco stood up, raising a champagne flute that he conjured. He tapped his wand on the edge, duplicating it for everyone at the table; Pansy and Luna's flutes filled with juice. "A toast."

"I don't think my mother-in-law would let me drink this," Pansy said, eying the juice in her glass.

Draco ignored her. "To Hermione and Theo!"

"To Hermione and Theo," Daphne, Blaise and Luna all said happily.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny still sat there in shock.

"Umm, shouldn't Nott be here for this . . . celebration?" Harry eventually asked.

"Traditionally, yes. And now that Granger's agreed to the engagement and has signed the marriage contract—" Draco pulled a rolled up parchment from his robes. "—we can go, break through Theo's extremely complicated security wards, and convince the bastard that marrying a bossy swot is better than death!"


	5. Chapter 5

[Updated August 2017]

* * *

**Chapter Five**

* * *

**March 6th, 2004**

Theo stared back at his reflection in the mirror and frowned. He never thought he would one day look worse than the night he had taken the Dark Mark. Taken, of course, never felt like the proper word for what had happened to him—for what happened to them _all_. Certainly, Draco might have been a willing participant up to a year before his father had ended up in Azkaban and the Dark Mark seemed—at least to the Malfoys—like a symbol of honour and prestige instead of what it really was: a leash.

By the commonly followed standards, Theo knew he should have been the first to have the Mark imprinted upon him. He was the oldest amongst the Slytherins in his year. If Adrian, Marcus, Graham, and Cassius were an example to follow, age was the factor in choosing future Death Eaters. But some of their fathers had screwed up, none more so than Draco's, and the Malfoys had been selected to be "made an example to the others" or so the Dark Lord had claimed. Marked, initiated, and then thrown to the wolves back at Hogwarts—as opposed to the wolves housed inside Malfoy Manor.

Vincent and Greg, the simple, loyal sheep that they were, followed Draco's example by taking the Dark Mark—willingly—that following Christmas. Theo had elected to stay at Hogwarts during all the possible holidays that school year, but summer eventually approached, and going home was unavoidable.

He had been practically dragged before the Dark Lord—metaphorically of course—and was bestowed the great honour of having the Dark Mark placed upon his left forearm. Theo knew better than to physically fight back against wizards more powerful than he was.

"_Kneel," _the Dark Lord had instructed, and Theo felt his knees touch the marble floors. Then, he became acquainted with _real _pain.

The Dark Mark burned and stung and made him violently ill. Layers upon layers of magic so dark that Theo wondered if it was seeping into his very blood, turning it black like the Mark on his skin. _Dirty blood_, he remembered thinking. Had he not been doubled over in agony at the Dark Lord's feet, he might have rolled his eyes and scoffed loudly. Blood had never mattered to Theo. It seemed pointless.

His mother, from what he remembered of her, was overly fond of crups and bred them for show. He watched with rapt interest as she would take a fawn-coloured male and a black and tawny-coloured female, place them in a pen together during specific times, and several months later there would be tiny crups, yipping around the manor.

"_Why're you keeping those two?" _he asked her once when she set aside two of the largest pups.

She had smiled at him and then said, "_Because they're the prettiest, and I'm going to use them to make more pretty little babies."_

It made sense. Pretty crups made pretty crups. Theo noted, however, that the pretty ones occasionally could _also _be the least intelligent ones that were sometimes difficult to train. Still, his mother kept them pretty and bred them for generations, down and down until one litter came out with five dead pups; the only one that lived was blind.

"_Is that puppy a squib?" _Doting and thoughtful woman that his mother had been, she smiled and nodded because how else would she explain that she had inbred her pets so much that they eventually started dying due to health issues? "_What now?"_

"_Your father's buying a new mother crup from a lady that sells them in Yorkshire."_

Too young to understand exactly what lines were not to be crossed or when to stop a metaphor in its tracks, Theo had asked, "_Will it be Muggle-born?" _His question, overheard by his father, had earned him a Stinging Hex to the back of the neck that nearly choked him to death when he throat swelled shut.

While he never spoke his thoughts on breeding with his parents again, Theo gained an intelligent insight and understanding of what blood was and how it lacked importance in their world, despite what his father and the fathers of his friends said. His own friends, he noted, had their reasons for blood supremacy.

Draco had been groomed to be the perfect pureblood prince his entire life, ever regurgitating back the drivel that Lucius told him. It was hard to argue with a man who told you that you should hate someone over their blood status because you were so much better than they were and would you like a Chocolate Frog and a brand new broom for being my ever obedient mirrored image? Vince and Greg pretty much believed anything and everything _anyone _would tell them. Pansy was threatened by anything outside of her perfect little bubble of ignorance. Daphne, Theo thought from time to time, understood how the world really worked, but she knew better than to voice her opinion on such things. She stayed quiet and pretty, pretending to be nothing more than a face to look at while she quietly plotted the safest and smartest course for her life.

The Dark Lord, he supposed, hated Muggle-borns and Muggles for a personal reason, but Theo had not exactly been keen on asking questions of a wizard who looked more beast than man and had clapped him on the back when the Dark Mark had set into his skin, telling him how honoured he should be to have been chosen.

_Don't kid yourself,_ Theo remembered thinking. _We're nothing but cannon fodder_.

"_You have joined a wonderful brotherhood, Theodore Nott," _the Dark Lord had said before handing over a set of black robes, a silver mask, and pushing him toward his friends.

Greg, Vince, Adrian, Marcus, Graham, and Cassius all looked like they could vomit at any moment after watching him receive the Mark. Draco had looked that way for the whole year; apparently fucking up Dumbledore's murder had made things much, much worse for him.

_Brotherhood_. Theo silently scoffed. _They were already my brothers_, he remembered thinking as he looked at his fellow young Death Eaters, glad to know that Blaise had, thus far, escaped this fate.

His father had approached him and put a hand on his shoulder.

Unlike Draco, who yearned for the parental attention and approval that came with such a significant physical gesture, Theo forced himself not to flinch when his father talked about the pride that came with taking the Dark Mark and how he was to be proud to serve as a member of a cause as great as theirs. Theo had smiled politely, nodded his head in apparent agreement and reminded himself, repeatedly, that he had accepted—or at least not fought back against—taking the Dark Mark to save his own life.

The irony of that now was not lost on him.

After a quick shower that was more for the heat to warm his aching muscles than the actual need to clean, Theo made his way down the stairs to the far-too-large and impractical dining room, passing it in favour for the breakfast nook that was tucked away snugly in what use to be his father's study. After Thoros Nott was captured seven months after the final battle of Hogwarts and sent to Azkaban for life, Theo had celebrated by drinking what felt like his weight in firewhisky and then demolishing the study with an epic series of Explosion Charms. A week later when he finally sobered up, the debris from the study was vanished and the breakfast nook took its place shortly thereafter.

"Pixy," he quietly called, offering a light smile to the elf that appeared in front of him. She narrowed large eyes at the dark circles beneath his own with an expression sympathy that could rival that of his mother when he was five and had caught Dragon Pox. "Can I get a cup of tea, please?"

"Master needs be eating."

Theo shook his head. "No thank you."

"Master needs be _eating_," Pixy repeated herself, her eyes welling with tears.

He sighed irritably, not in the mood to feel like pretending he was going to survive the summer just because a house-elf was sad. But he lacked the energy and the drive to argue with her. "Dry toast then, thank you." He knew he likely would not eat it, but Pixy smiled like she had accomplished some great victory and popped away to fetch his breakfast as he sat down to look over the morning mail.

Four requests for a Curse-Breaker of his skill level were sent back with his personal recommendations for others who were adequate enough to handle the job. _On holiday,_ he wrote in each letter, offering his apologies. Telling people who sought him out that he was retiring at the ripe old age of twenty-four was just asking for busybodies to snoop their way into his personal affairs.

At the bottom of the stack of letters were at least two from Draco, one from Blaise, six from Daphne, and a Howler from Pansy that had been caught in the trap he had specifically created for such an event. Theo could not help but smirk at the sight of the red envelope, violently shaking as it was trapped in the soundproof glass box, waiting for his signal to let it just explode. He already had a headache that morning and was not in the mood for Pansy's shrill bitching.

The other letters were set aside and not even opened, but one of Draco's looked slightly intriguing. He had used red wax on the seal instead of green or silver. Anyone else would not have given the colour change a second thought, but Theo knew Draco was meticulous about consistency and upholding his image, even if that image conflicted a touch with the one he had been raised to emulate. Then again, marrying a Ravenclaw with her head in the clouds and at least one or two talents in the bedroom had a way of bringing even the most pompous of arses to reevaluate the way he lived.

Theo stared at the red wax seal on the envelope and eventually waved his wand over it, casting a series of detection spells just in case. He would not put it past even his own best friend to try and curse him into compliance. When nothing came up, he cracked the seal open, annoyed knowing that Draco had done this in an effort to get his attention.

His suspicions were confirmed in the first line of the letter:

_Theo,_

_Merlin, you're predictable. I knew you couldn't resist opening it this time. Now before you have a chance to burn this letter too, I need you to stop being an arsehole and open up your wards because I've found a way to—_

Theo flicked his wand at the parchment. "_Incendio_."

Even the _prospect _of hope had become boring.

He knew what was happening to him—what _would _happen to him. _He _had been the one to figure it out and put all the pieces together. _He _had been there for Draco's massive mental breakdown when he thought he was going to die like Warrington, Flint, and Montague. _He _had helped his friend get his estate in order, just in case, working himself damn near to his own breakdown trying to figure out how to break the curse to no avail. _He _had been there every moment for the countdown, waiting for something to happen. They had been drunk for nearly a week after the date came and went, still just waiting for his best friend to drop dead the way the others had. When Draco survived, they celebrated.

When Goyle died the following December, Theo stuck around for the funeral long enough to tell the others, "It's the witches," and then left before they could sucker him—and some poor unsuspecting and likely Imperiused woman—into something incredibly stupid.

Why he returned to Britain a few days ago . . . he was not sure.

But it was not because he had hope.

It was less than an hour after lunch—or at least after Pixy had _placed _a lunch in front of him and he studiously ignored it in favour of an old book, a glass of water, and a much-needed nap—that Theo felt the wards around his home being brushed up against. It was light at first, likely an owl that had not yet been redirected to the small opening in the wards just for the post.

When he felt a stronger presence against the magic he had taken weeks to install himself, Theo sat up in irritation. "Malfoy."

He stood, wand in hand, making his way to the front door where he fully intended to deal with his friend. At least, if Draco could figure out _how _to get through, which was highly unlikely. Frankly, Theo was impressed he had gotten _this _far.

When the front door was nearly kicked in due to the burst of residual magic, Theo stared, wide-eyed as Draco sauntered inside the manor, looking like bloody Alexander the Great after the siege of Tyre, ever victorious.

"How the fuck did you get in? It should have taken at least six people to get through those wards!"

"Seven, actually," Ginny Weasley said as she stepped through his front door, causing his mouth to fall open in shock at the sight. "But to be fair, I don't think Ron was trying very hard."

"And we left Luna and Pansy back at the Manor," Draco said.

"We?" Theo asked nervously, gripping his wand tight in hand.

Blaise followed in shortly behind his girlfriend.

Daphne pushed her way past them all, looking at Theo like he could break at any second. "Merlin, look at you," she said, her face contorting into one of utter sadness and sympathy. When she approached and took his face in her tiny hands to look him over in that mothering way she always had, he struggled to fight her off, but in the end just did not have the strength.

"What're you doing here, Daph? Shouldn't you be off planning your wedding?"

She kissed his cheek. "I would have married you to save your life."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't have let you."

"Good to know."

Theo looked up at the unfamiliar voice to spot all three members of the famed Golden Trio standing there. Harry Potter, who appeared very uneasy, Ronald Weasley, who was staring daggers at Theo, and . . .

Why did Hermione Granger look nervous?

His eyes widened, and he turned and scowled at his best friend. "What did you do?"

"I fixed this," Draco said smugly.

"Pixy!" Theo shouted and waited for the elf to appear. When she did, he looked down at her and said, "Please escort my _guests _out," and then turned to leave.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Theo felt his body stiffen and fall to the floor.

Pixy shrieked.

Theo noted that she did nothing to help him, the little traitor.

"Draco!" Daphne hissed. "Look at him! That can't be good for his health!"

"Neither is dying. Blaise, roll him over so we can have a proper chat."

Theo could hear Blaise's resigned sigh. He almost looked apologetic when he rolled Theo over, but his expression was cast toward the Gryffindors, who were all staring at the scene in horror. Blaise smirked a little at Theo's scowl, frozen in place. "He's kind of sexy when he gets all angry like that, isn't he? Granger, you want to come and take a gander at what you'll be looking at across the breakfast table?"

"Hopefully for the next hundred years or so," Draco added with a dangerous tone. He knelt over Theo's body, literally straddling his legs as he leant over and came face to face with him, a sign of dominance to show who was _really _in charge.

Theo made a mental note to hex him in the dick later.

"I dislike change, Theo. I didn't like it when we had to put up with a new Defence teacher every year, I didn't like it when Honeydukes discontinued lemon-flavoured sugar quills, and I didn't like it each and every time the Dark Lord—" Draco paused, looking up as though he were waiting to see if any of the Gryffindors would correct him on his word choice. "—killed one of my friends. Did you really think I was going to let you just die? When we figured out how to fix it? Theo, if marrying a Muggle would save your life, I would have Obliviated you into thinking you were a magicless shopkeep utterly besotted with the idea of eloping with some random waitress and sprogging her up." He tapped his wand against Theo's head to drive the point home. "So you're going to be the obedient little arsehole, play nice with the bookworm who has agreed to marry you—contract already signed—and not let yourself die."

If he had the ability to widen his eyes through the body-bind, Theo would have done so. Hermione Granger had signed a marriage contract? What the absolute hell?

"Please, Theo," Daphne whispered, breaking him from his thoughts.

"See?" Draco said, briefly looking at Daphne before returning his eyes to Theo. "Daphne's begging you. Begging. Something I'm pretty sure she only does for Potter these days. If you let yourself die, Daphne's going to sob her little heart out, Potter's going to get huffy over the sadness of his lady love, and the rest of us will have to put up with _that_. Not to mention whatever horrible sounds Pansy will make at your funeral."

In a strange moment of genuine intimacy between friends that Theo was certain Luna had helped bring out in him, Draco leant forward, pressed his forehead against Theo's, and very seriously said, "Do not make me bury another friend."

Draco released him from the body-bind, but Theo remained lying on the ground with the blond hovering over him. He did his best to rein in his temper, knowing that everything Draco said was right. He could not even look at Daphne right now in fear that she would burst into tears.

"Unless you plan on buying me dinner," Theo eventually said through clenched teeth, "Get. Off. My. Lap."

Draco smirked and stood up. "Good, he's back to his charming self. Granger, come say hello."

Theo sat up and sighed, resting his forearms on his knees. When he finally turned and looked at the still-silent Gryffindors, he frowned. "Not that I don't trust my friends," he said, looking specifically at Potter and Weasley, "but before anything else happens, you should check to see if Draco's Imperiused her."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: So glad you all are enjoying my version of Theo. He's always been (in my head) a Slytherin version of Remus but with much more confidence. He's Draco without the bad attitude and Blaise without the public indecency. But also . . broken and scarred from the war like the rest of them.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Six

* * *

**March 6th, 2004**

They gathered around a small circular table in the breakfast nook where Theo directed them. "I hope you won't be offended," Hermione said, twisting the hem of her blouse in her fingers as she took a seat beside Theo, "I'd like Daphne and Harry to sit in on this. Ginny and Ron are too temperamental, and frankly, someone needs to babysit Blaise."

Theo gave a slight chuckle. Had he actually cared for anything he owned in the manor, he might have insisted Blaise leave. Theft wasn't something he worried about, of course, but Blaise had an unnaturally curious nature and, if left to his own devices, something was liable to get broken. "And Draco? You don't trust _him _to look over the contract on his own?" he asked sarcastically, earning him an incredulous look from the witch.

"He believes wereducks exist," she replied.

Theo turned and stared at his best friend. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Draco glared back at the pair. "Can we get started or does there need to be more damage to my ego and reputation?"

Theo sat down and sighed dramatically, gesturing with his hand. "By your leave," he said and folded his arms across his chest, looking bored.

Draco pulled out a fresh marriage contract and a quill. The previous contract that had already been signed by Hermione was lit on fire the second that she had read the words "bridal bed" and "dowry", and everyone agreed that starting from scratch would be the best course of action. "So, the first order of business is the wedding date which needs to be as soon as possible."

"June 13th sounds good," Theo said and then winced as Daphne reached across Draco to smack him on the side of the head. "Ow!"

Harry watched as his normally sweet and graceful fiance turned violent and he sat stiffly in his chair. "Did I miss something?" he asked nervously.

The blond witch glowered at her friend. "Theo was given the Mark on June 13th."

Theo rolled his eyes. "Given implies a gift. Can you _give _a curse?" he asked. "I had a cousin once who gave me Dragon Pox when I was little, so I suppose in some contexts the term applies correctly." He nodded. "June 12th then."

Daphne sighed. "Theo . . ."

He frowned. "I'm trying to be amenable here, Daphne, and give the lady enough time to think this through so she can gracefully back out."

Hermione shook her head. "I won't do that."

He scoffed. "Of course not, you're a Gryffindor."

She turned and narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm going through with this. Acting surly won't change my mind," she said stubbornly.

Theo took a breath and slowly exhaled, fighting the returning headache that usually appeared around this time of day. He wondered if it was too soon to take another Pain Potion. An Invigoration Draught and some Pepper-Up couldn't hurt either. "I don't want your pity, Hermione," he said quietly. "I'm not a house-elf."

She pursed her lips and directed her gaze to the center of the table, purposely avoiding the eye contact of everyone present. The three Slytherins all took immediate notice. "I have my own reasons for doing this."

Draco set the quill down and glance across the table. "Well, I'm intrigued," he said with a smirk. "The plot thickens."

She looked up at him, her gaze penetrating and hard. "Shove off, Malfoy," she hissed. "I'm going through with this. I won't back out," she insisted. "And I think it's foolish to cut something that close," she added, turning her attention back to Theo. "You're already sick; we can all plainly see it and it's not just the curse we need to worry about. Certainly, it will drain your magical core by the intended anniversary, but the symptoms you're going through now could result in a plethora of other health issues and risks."

Theo stared at her and wondered if his friends had thought of that before now. He couldn't see their faces, but the silence said enough. A part of him was really hoping Daphne didn't strike him again. The symptoms really were the worst of it. The fatigue was crippling, but the pain was exhausting. Headaches everyday, sharp pains in his muscles, and the inability to eat something and actually keep the majority of it down. He was tired.

So tired of waiting to die.

"June 11th," he suggested. Everyone ignored him.

"What about sometime in the middle of May?" Harry offered and then immediately received incredulous glares from everyone around the table. "What? I can't make suggestions?"

Draco shook his head. "It's unlucky to get married in May. Were you raised by animals?"

Harry snorted. "Close enough." He sighed. "Then April. Gods," he paled a bit, "that's only a month away."

"'_Marry in April when you can, joy for Maiden and for Man'_," Daphne said with a bright smile looking far too non-threatening to be a Slytherin. She appeared like a joyful Hufflepuff, hanging on the arm of Harry Potter, war hero. Few knew that her bite was much harder than the bark that people rarely, if ever, heard. She was nearly the polar opposite of Pansy who let everyone know what she thought of them. Hermione often thought that made Daphne much more dangerous. "Every month has certain observances and superstitions."

"What does a September wedding promise?" Harry asked curiously.

"Riches," Draco answered, looking back down at the marriage contract as he began filling in the names and dates and other general information.

Harry turned and stared at Daphne. "_You_ picked our wedding date," he said, a slightly accusatory tone in his voice.

Daphne scoffed at him. "I picked September because when we have children we can shove them all on the Hogwarts Express and then go on holiday for our anniversary. I plan ahead," she explained with no apology. "Now, Wednesday is the luckiest day to get married. April 21st?"

"Fine." Hermione nodded and then gasped as she counted in her head. "Oh, gods . . . Daphne you'll help me plan this, right?" she asked with a panicked voice.

The blonde nodded. "Of course!"

Theo raised his hand as though they were all back in Hogwarts. "Do I get any input here?"

"No," Draco answered coolly. "You lost the right to choose your wedding day when you disappeared for two months and then locked yourself in your own house to die alone," he stated firmly. "Now, engagement and wedding rings. You'll use traditional ones from your vault?"

Theo nodded in defeat and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course."

Hermione shook her head. "I . . . I don't need a ring."

Theo gaped at her statement and then turned back to stare at Draco. "I thought she already signed the original contract? You would have stated the rings in there."

"I did," Draco replied. "She was pissed at the time."

Theo's blue eyes widened. "You tried marrying me off to a drunk witch?"

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I would have married you off to a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Granger, you're getting a traditional ring," he said, pointing at her as though that made his words final. "It's a part of the binding ceremony. Speaking of the vaults though, we'll need you to either send a letter to Gringotts or go in yourself, only if you're feeling up to it, to add Granger to everything."

"What?!" Hermione yelled, noticing immediately the way that Theo winced at the volume and she offered him an apologetic glance before turning her wrath on Draco. "That's not a part of this deal. I don't want money involved."

"It has to be done this way, Granger."

"I don't want his money!"

"What a coincidence," Theo said with an irritable sigh, "neither do I."

Draco chuckled under his breath, ignoring Hermione entirely and looking up at his best friend. "Liar. You'd be rubbish at roughing it," he said before finally bringing his attention back to the witch. "Granger, if Theo dies, at _any _point in the future . . ." he paused, angrily letting the thought swirl around in his head, "preferably a _long _time from now, if the money and possessions don't go to _you_, the Ministry will claim them and all those government arseholes get a big payday."

"We _are _those government arseholes, Draco," Hermione said.

"Well, the Galleons won't roll _that _far down the hill."

Theo leaned over and tapped his finger on the parchment. "Put it in the contract that if I die and Hermione wishes, the money can go to charities of her choice," he insisted. "The War Orphan Fund, House-Elf Liberation Front, and the Muggle-born Scholarships for Hogwarts."

Her eyes widened at his words and her mouth fell open. "You know about the House-Elf Liberation Front?" she asked.

Before Theo had a chance to answer, Draco moved on. "And if _you _die, Granger?"

"Umm . . . I . . ." she stammered. "All of my things will go to my parents."

"It doesn't work that way," Draco said. "Do you have a Muggle will or a Wizarding one?" he asked and then didn't leave her room to answer it. A Muggle will was pointless anyway. "If you die, goblins won't hand over anything to Muggles. You have to have a wizard or witch as an in between."

"Fine." Hermione sighed. "Harry then," she said and then looked to her right. "No offence, Theodore."

"Theo. Please," he insisted. "And none taken. I would have done the same thing if I still had parents to leave things to. As it stands, the only people I have to leave money to in case of my death are just as wealthy, if not more so than myself, so it seemed fairly pointless," he said, and gestured to both Draco and Daphne.

While Draco continued to write out the contract, Daphne filled the brief silence. "Pixy and the other elves have kept the manor looking quite well," she said to Theo. "We can probably get Hermione all moved in within the week."

"What?" Hermione turned and stared at the blonde. "Moved in . . . in _here_?" she asked, appearing confused.

Theo turned to her. "There aren't any Dark Artifacts or anything," he promised. "While you were all enjoying retaking your seventh year at Hogwarts, I took my N.E.W.T.s from home and then spent the better part of eight months cleaning house. Literally."

"That's not . . . I just didn't realise . . ."

Draco laughed. "That you'd live with your husband?" He shook his head in amusement. "That brings up the next section . . . children."

Hermione leaned forward, bracing her hands on the side of her chair and took in several deep breaths. "Can . . . can Theo and I . . . may we have a minute?"

Harry reached over and put a hand on her arm. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

She shook him off, clearly feeling a bit suffocated by the small room and the many people in it. Being touched was not a good thing at the moment. "I'll be fine," she insisted, "I just . . . I need to talk to Theo."

Silently, the other three stood and made their way to the door, Daphne closing it behind them. Hermione looked over and realised that Draco had left the contract on the table. It looked ancient as though he'd taken parchment from a tomb to write upon instead of something fresh bought from a shop. The lettering, in thick, slanted, cursive reminded her of something from a movie where archaic laws still existed and women were bartered like money in marriages. _Oh, wait. Honestly, how did marriage contracts still exist in 2004?!_

"You don't have to do this," Theo said, breaking her internal conflict.

She shook her head, gathering her Gryffindor courage and her Granger stubbornness. "I'm doing this. I'm not backing out. I gave my word."

"I'm okay with dying," he told her. "I've accepted it."

"_I need things to be normal," her mother had told her. "I don't want to be sad or afraid."_

"I'd _like _to live," Theo confessed. "Living is good, but I'm not . . . you shouldn't have to sacrifice your life in exchange for mine. I'm not _that _much of a self-preservationist."

She smiled sadly at him. "Isn't that the biggest attribute of a Slytherin?" she asked.

He smirked. "Not always. We're ambitious, cunning, and resourceful as well."

"Draco's cunning all right," she said bitterly.

He only nodded. "And I'm ambitious. I'm not boasting when I say I'm the best Curse-Breaker there is," he said, and then let the slightest slip of a smug grin cross his face.

"_We_ got through your wards," she pointed out.

Theo laughed. "Yes, and it took _seven _of you to do so. Two fully trained Aurors and Draco Malfoy who's been keyed into the leylines of the property since he was six and skinned his knee out back by the gardens." He rolled his eyes. "Besides," he began and then faltered a bit, looking down at the wand he was twirling in his fingers, something he did out of habit to keep from fidgeting, "my magic hasn't . . . been at its peak lately. If I make it past June 13th —"

"You will."

"— and my magic returns to me, I'll be paying Draco back for that scene earlier. Binding me," he said with an irritated growl. "What a prat."

"Should . . ." Hermione exhaled and looked over at the parchment still there in front of them, "should we finish the contract ourselves?"

Theo sighed. "I don't expect anything from you. You don't have to . . . children are . . ."

"It's fine," she said quickly, embarrassed over how she'd panicked minutes earlier. "I just . . . it hadn't occurred to me. But this is for life and . . . Fidelity Charms are woven into binding rituals so it's not like you or I could —"

"I _wouldn't_," he said, interrupting her. "My word is my bond."

"You don't just want a marriage of convenience?" she nervously asked.

Theo smirked and Hermione found herself staring at his eyes wondering if they would brighten if — no, _when _— his magic returned to full strength. They were blue, but not bright cerulean like Ron's or ice blue like Daphne's. Instead, they were a light sapphire colour that reminded her of the ocean, with little flecks of brown near the pupil that made his eyes look like the earth exploding from the inside out, water rushing to the outer edges.

"I hardly think _any _of this is convenient," he said. "But no. If something is, then it should be. Not appear as though it is under false pretenses," he insisted. "You may do as you wish, I wouldn't dare control another person but my mother taught me that when I marry, it's for life and I'm to treat my witch with respect and honour._ If _we marry," he said, letting that "if" hang in the air as long as he could, "then I am . . . effectively, yours."

Hermione nervously swallowed. "W-what . . . what did your father teach you?" she naively asked.

Theo's smile faded immediately and his bright blue eyes dimmed. "What _not _to be," he curtly answered.

She winced a bit and then sucked in a gulp of air to collect herself. "I . . . fine, let's . . . let's be adults about this then," she suggested. "Children?"

He shrugged. "I never put much thought into it. I didn't think I'd survive the war to be honest, and then with the curse . . ." He sighed and ran a hand through his dark brown hair that seemed to fall in that attractively messy way that Harry's hair often attempted, but epically failed at doing. "I wouldn't want to . . . I mean . . ." Theo groaned in frustration. "Fuck," he growled and then looked at her apologetically for his outburst. "Damn Draco and his imposing arse."

She smirked. "At least we have a few things in common. A distaste for Malfoy for instance."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Right now it's _much _more than a distaste. I think when he walks back in this room I'm going to hit him."

She grinned at his words. "I've done that before," she said with a slight lift and happy tone in her voice, something that had been missing all morning. "It feels amazing. Make sure to keep your thumb on the outside of your hand," she advised, reaching over and taking his hand in hers to position his fingers as she'd explained.

Theo brushed the pad of his thumb against her knuckles and her breath caught in her throat. "Hermione," he whispered, "you do know that a marriage binding ritual is only completed with —"

"Consummation," she finished his sentence and pulled her hand away from him to scratch the back of her neck. "Yes, I . . . I remember reading something like that when Pansy and Ron got married."

"Not like consummation was a problem for them," he said with a smirk.

"Will it . . ." she paused as a thought occurred to her. "I mean, I didn't even think to ask if you —"

Theo raised a curious brow. "If I find Draco and Blaise more appealing than you?" he asked and chuckled when she cringed in embarrassment, her cheeks flushing pink. "Well, they _are _quite lovely," he said sarcastically. "I can't speak for Blaise, as he's not yet popped the question to Red, but I think Draco is spoken for. To answer your question, though, I prefer witches," he said, his smirk turning into a full grin.

_He's not ready to die_, she thought as she watched him smile.

"Good," she nodded, "me too," she said and then her eyes widened as she heard the words come out of her mouth. "I mean . . . I prefer _wizards _. . . because . . ." she put her hands over her face to hide her mortification. When she heard the low chuckles coming from his chest she groaned. "You're laughing at me."

He reached up and pulled her hands away from her face. "You're blushing," he pointed out, looking suddenly very smug, as though her outburst had somehow stroked his ego. She felt simultaneously happy that she'd brought about such a change in him while also a bit irritated that he'd finally shown his Slytherin self.

"I'm nervous," she admitted, rubbing her cheek bones as though the action could wash away the pink stain.

Theo smiled at her. "It's very pretty."

* * *

**A/N**: I know a lot of you thought there would be more fighting against the marriage idea but really, that's been done before, I like being a little different and letting the characters kind of take over when I write. Hopefully, it's an enjoyable read.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: I'm likely to be busy tomorrow, so you're getting Thursdays chapter on Wednesday night!

Answering a few Q&amp;As - **Guest #1**, Right now Hermione is the only one looking out for Hermione. As usual, her friends are very caught up in their own lives and she's stubborn and has basically put her foot down on this issue. Well, I suppose Luna is looking out for Hermione a bit. She knows it'll all work out nicely in the end. LOL. **Guest #2**, Hermione and Theo are not virgins. **CharmedNightSkye**, Daphne did hit Theo, not Draco. She reached across Draco in order to smack Theo.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Seven

* * *

**March 7th, 2004**

The day after the marriage contract was signed and sent to the Ministry for approval, Hermione Apparated to the front steps of Nott Manor, surprised that she didn't have to fight her way through the security wards this time. A part of her wanted to cancel, but when she stopped in to see her parents and ate a hearty but healthy breakfast, only to be shoved out the door when her mother got sick and begged to not be seen like that, it shattered Hermione's heart. Just outside her childhood home, she steeled her nerves and did her best to preserve her mother's dignity and then ignored her father when he insisted that she bring her fiance over for dinner some time very soon so they could start planning the wedding.

Good Godric, the wedding. How had she talked herself into this?

"You don't have to go through with it, you know," Theo said as they sat together in the small breakfast nook of Nott Manor.

She'd been given a tour of the east wing of the large manor which included a ballroom, two separate dining rooms, eight guest rooms, two studies, and a swimming pool. She knew there was a library and had a feeling that Draco or Daphne had told Theo to save that for last; as though books would be the clincher that would keep her determined not to break the marriage contract before she was bonded to Theo.

"Coffee?" she replied, raising a questioning brow as though she didn't know what he was actually talking about. She stared down into her ceramic cup and pursed her lips as she held three lumps of sugar in her hand, hovering over the liquid. "It's really not that complicated. Just add a little milk. All I need now is sugar," she said and opened her palm. "I'm halfway there and you want me to stop now?"

Theo rolled his eyes and she saw the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips. "That's not what I meant."

She smiled and dropped the sugar in her drink and stirred it around with a silver spoon, sucking the liquid off of the end before placing it down on the table. "I know," she nodded and then took a sip from her cup, watching curiously as he occasionally swirled the contents of his tea but never drank. "Are you going to try to get me to back out of this marriage every time I see you? I can't help but think that's going to get annoying after a while; don't make it a part of your vows, please."

He chuckled and she found she very much liked the sound of it. Slytherins were complicated and she found they all had their own issues that she liked breaking through. Pansy was cold and untrusting, so when she'd finally gotten the witch to take her to lunch in a Muggle restaurant, Hermione felt victorious. The first time she was able to get Draco to call her by her first name without a mocking tone, she had actually celebrated. Making Theo smile gave her the same feelings of triumph.

"I'm just trying to be polite," he told her.

"Am I _that _horrible?" she asked. "I mean, I know that we didn't know one another well or . . . not at all really in school, and I assume Draco was quite a blabbermouth when it came to the subject of me."

He snorted. "He was actually a lot more talkative about Potter," he said, rolling his eyes. "For a while there, all the Slytherins in our year had a bet going on when he'd come out and admit his undying love for the Chosen One," he said and grinned softly when Hermione laughed. "I won ten Galleons from Blaise when it was obvious that Draco was straight. Then again, I cheated because I'd caught he and Pansy having sex at the end of fourth year."

She grimaced. "Gross."

He laughed. "You didn't have to see it."

She shook her head and swallowed another gulp of coffee. "I've caught her and Ron," she confessed. "I can still say gross."

They shared a quiet moment of amusement before he admitted, "I never hated you. I never cared about blood status or any of that rubbish."

Her smile faded immediately. "You were . . . are . . . I . . . this is complicated," she said and sighed loudly. "I don't know what to make of you. You're a Slytherin, but — and no offense to your friends — you're the least creepy and bastardly one I've met with the exception of Daphne."

He grinned, clearly taking her words as a compliment. "She once turned Goyle into a toad and tried to trick Longbottom into thinking it was his familiar. Don't think Daphne is some innocent little misplaced Ravenclaw or something. She's formidable."

Hermione's eyes widened at the tale and she made a mental note to ask Daphne, and perhaps Neville, about it later. "But Draco's always been a prat," she said. "Even Blaise was an absolute snob in school who wouldn't give a Muggle-born the time of day unless she had a good looking half-blood friend that he wanted to shag. Pansy's never been quiet about her opinions," she said and then looked up at him, once again finding herself looking at the variations of colour in his eyes. "And then there's you. I don't know who or what you are or where you stand, Theo Nott."

He swallowed as he stared at her as though she were a puzzle he was wanting to figure out as well. "So ask me," he told her. "Isn't that what these little coffee dates were supposed to be for?"

"_We're getting married in a little over a month," Hermione and Theo had told their friends when they'd exited the breakfast nook the day before, marriage contract in their hands. When it was clear that she was starting to panic, Daphne took over and insisted that Theo and Hermione meet together, alone, at least once a day in order to get to know one another._

_Draco had teased her about it and said something about how the world wouldn't always bend to the needs of Hermione Granger just because things made her uncomfortable, and then he started quoting statistics about arranged pureblood marriages and how she and Theo should stop being babies about the situation. _

_She made a mental note to put a duck in his office come Monday._

"Getting to know one another, yes." Hermione nodded, drinking another sip of her coffee and once again taking note that Theo hadn't touched his tea. "You don't care about blood status?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. Never have."

"Why?"

He stared at her incredulously. "Because I'm intelligent enough to know that it doesn't mean anything?" he offered. "We were all educated by our parents; that's where children receive the foundations of their knowledge. _Our _parents, meaning the Slytherins of our year, were prejudiced blood purists who likely were only that way because _their _parents were the same and it continues to go back and back until the original fear of Muggle-borns was created," he shook his head as though this were a subject he'd talked about before and found appalling, "and really, who knows what that was because any detailed accounting has been diluted over the years and twisted to serve the purposes of whoever is telling the tale." His eyes briefly flickered to the Dark Mark on his arm.

"Our parents taught us to hate Muggles and Muggle-borns. They all added their own little notes on the lessons as well. Daphne's parents were a little more relaxed about it with her and Astoria so long as they didn't marry beneath them."

Hermione snorted at that. She knew for a fact that Daphne's parents were thrilled that she was going to become Harry Potter's wife. Certainly not beneath her.

"Blaise's mother taught him that Muggle-borns were useful but disgusting," Theo continued, rolling his eyes as he spoke. "Pansy's parents taught her that Muggle-borns were magic thieves who needed to be punished. Draco . . . well," he scoffed, "we all know that the Malfoys have an over-inflated ego. He was taught that he was above everyone, which obviously included all of us; it made it very difficult to be his friend in the beginning."

"It's _still _difficult," she told him.

He grinned at her and she felt a strange nervous flutter in her stomach.

"But he was told that Muggle-borns were lowest of the low, and to interact with them would sully him. Mindless indoctrination of children," he said and finally brought the cup of tea to his lips and drank. "_That's_ what's disgusting."

She smiled at him wondering if all conversations with her future husband would be this interesting. He was intelligent, which was one of the traits that Draco had told her about when he first tried to suggest to her this insane arrangement. A part of her wanted to be hopeful. "So what about you? How did you escape it?"

He frowned slightly. "I didn't," he said and his jaw tightened. "But my father tried to teach me to hate Muggles and Muggle-borns at the end of a belt," he confessed and watched her flinch in reaction. "Turns out it just taught me to hate _him _and everything he stood for."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "I . . ."

"Don't pity me."

She shook her head, thinking of Remus and Sirius for some reason. The moment that Sirius's name was cleared of all charges, he moved out of Grimmauld Place, gifting it entirely to Harry, and confessed that he couldn't stand to be in his childhood home for another minute due to the memories. He moved in with Remus the very next day. The remnants of abuse were obvious in Harry's godfather, and Hermione naively assumed that such horrors were a thing of the past. But Theo, one of her classmates, had been raised similarly. "I wouldn't pity you," she said, not knowing how much of her believed her own words. "I was just surprised is all. So, if you thought that way, how did you still end up in Slytherin?"

He shook his head, trying to hide the fact that she'd clearly offended him. "It's not just a House for pricks, you know."

She frowned. "I know," she said, wincing. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me."

"Understandable," he said with a tone of forgiveness. "Especially considering what my House put you through over the years."

"Not all of them," she said. "Mostly Draco and Pansy, and I've clearly forgiven them."

"Have you?"

She thought about the question and sighed. "I have my moments. I can logically see that they were just children and, for the most part, they didn't know better. They eased up over the years, so I assume that it was their brains actually putting the pieces of puzzles together."

He drank another sip of his tea and Hermione smiled as he noted the warmth of the liquid brought a little more colour to his cheeks. "I tried to educate them when I could," he admitted.

"You?" she asked. "_You're_ the reason that they started to change?"

He nodded. "Let me ask you, how did it feel being the only intelligent person in Gryffindor?"

Her mouth popped open and she scowled at him. "That's not fair, I wasn't —"

"I was in classes with you, Hermione," he said, cutting her off. "You were. At least in the beginning. The rest of your House was too busy playing Exploding Snap, talking about Quidditch, or blowing up cauldrons to crack a book. _You're _the reason that they started though, aren't you?"

She tried to hide the slight ego boost she felt at his words but didn't disagree with him. She did, however, try to downplay her actions. "I didn't want Harry and Ron to fail."

He laughed and the sound was loud and full of life, which was nice considering he still looked to be on Death's front door. "You were that worried about their O.W.L. scores were you?" he asked with a grin. "Or were you yearning to have people on the same level of understanding things as you. Someone you could relate to and talk to?"

She gently worried her bottom lip between her teeth for several seconds and then quietly conceded, "A little bit of both."

"Well, I was the same way," he said. "Only to my knowledge Potter and Weasley _complained _about you helping them while _my _friends had to pay for the privilege of my tutelage."

Her eyes widened. "They _paid _you to tutor them?"

"Tutelage may not have been the right word," he noted aloud and then took a moment to figure out what and how to say, "They paid me to stay on top of them in regards to their studies. I was available to help if necessary, but most of them were too prideful to ever ask which only made them study harder."

Memories of her doing the same thing to Ron and Harry over their six years at Hogwarts flooded through her mind. Constant reminders of assignment, keeping on top of them to see that they'd finished their Divination journals and constellation charts, re-writing their essays and teaching them Spell-checking Charms when Fred and George's quills stopped working. All the while, the boys complained and whined about her mothering them. "They _paid _you to lecture them about doing their homework? How did you get them to do that?"

Theo grinned proudly. "I might have started a rumour that if a witch or wizard didn't pass enough O.W.L.s, the Ministry placed a spell on them that slowly turned them into a Squib."

Hermione snorted. "Who would believe something that ridiculous?"

"Crabbe and Goyle," he said and she nodded her head in understanding. "Once I got them terrified enough about losing their magic, word spread throughout the House and then it became a thing of peer pressure. Draco, Blaise, and everyone else knew it was absolute rubbish, but they weren't going to be the odd ones out by taking a stand. Thus, decent O.W.L. scores, friends who talked about something other than Quidditch, and extra points for my House because we were all actually able to answer the questions in class. Though _you _put quite a damper in my plans to win the House Cup each year."

"You used propaganda to trick your own friends into doing something right," she said, shaking her head in shock. "That's . . . Gods, am I going to be the wife of the Minister for Magic one day?"

Theo laughed and shook his head, holding his hands up in surrender. "Depends if you decide _not _to marry me. _I'm _perfectly happy in my own little Curse-Breaking world."

She smiled. "Tell me about that."

He shook his head. "Nope. I've been talking non-stop. It's your turn. Tell me about your job."

She drank another sip of her coffee which was finally growing cold. "I work in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Beings, right?" he asked and she nodded. "Why _that _Division? I wouldn't lump you in with the rest of the witches in our year that doted upon unicorns, but generally people veer toward the Beasts in the D.R.C.M.C., don't they?"

She rolled her eyes. "That's because every little boy wants to grow up to be a dragon tamer, and those that don't qualify want to regulate and restrict those that do. I went into the Beings division to help take a stand for werewolf and house-elf rights."

He smirked. "I remember the house-elf issue from school. You had them all terrified, did you know that?"

She blushed at the memory and looked down in mild embarrassment. "I do now."

"So you're not trying to free them all?" he said, teasing her. "Pixy will have words with you over that."

"No," she told him. "I don't like the idea of owning elves or _any _Being. But I have come to respect the bonds that occur between house-elves and wizards. Now, I just try to make sure that they're treated well and not abused. Pixy looks well-cared for."

"Not on my account," Theo admitted. "_She_ takes care of _me_," he said, but his tone didn't imply the usual way a house-elf cared for their master. He actually looked guilty over his words, as though he was a burden on his elf. "So what about the werewolves?"

Hermione smiled. "Our third year Defence professor was . . . er . . . is a werewolf. He's now the head of the D.R.C.M.C. and a very good friend of mine."

"So you've a personal interest," Theo said and finished his cup of tea. "Tell me, do all Gryffindors just go around saving people?"

She shrugged. "Some people need to be saved."

He frowned. "Like me."

She stared at him for a moment, noting that the tea was all gone and she felt as though she'd somehow contributed to something monumental by distracting him long enough to actually get him to drink it. It wasn't nutritious by any means, but he looked so terribly sick and she couldn't help but think of her mother and wonder if she had gone through bouts of illness like this where she couldn't eat or drink anything.

The thought made everything ache inside and she tried to rein in her emotions before Theo started asking questions. "If it makes you feel any better," she said softly, "maybe one day I'll let _you _save _me_."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: I worked through a writing block this week and got through an additional two chapters that were plaguing me so to reward myself (and you I suppose) it's an extra chapter kind of weekend!

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Eight

* * *

**March 8th, 2004**

Monday morning came and Hermione prepared herself for work like it was any other day, doing her best to forget that she was engaged to a man she barely knew who also happened to be a former Death Eater and was, in fact, dying because of it. She also tried to forget that her mother was also dying due to a rare terminal illness that Muggle doctors were struggling to fight. After her meeting with Theo the day before, she'd gone home and devoured three more cups of coffee and the research binder her father had given her in regards to her mother's doctor's notes. After looking over every inked mark, every notation, every prescription, and scan, Hermione slammed the book shut and left her flat in a temper.

She'd Apparated to the nearest legal point close to the local Muggle neighbourhood and walked the half a mile trip to the public library in the hopes that she could find some helpful books on Muggle pathology. She also had wanted to use their computer so that she could order some books and send out emails to specialists that her parents perhaps hadn't been able to get in touch with.

After getting word back from her father early that morning that her mother was having a good day and was in good spirits, Hermione relaxed and left for the Ministry, eager to bury her worries in paperwork and pretend the last three days hadn't happened.

She was sorely disappointed.

"Granger! Malfoy!" Amos Diggory called.

Sighing and stretching her neck after staring at the same piece of Wolfsbane patent information for the last hour, Hermione was eager for a reprieve, even if it meant dealing with Malfoy and Diggory. Unfortunately, it wasn't Amos who she was going to be dealing with today.

"Lupin wants you both in his office," Diggory said, gesturing to the closed door that read, _Remus Lupin, Head of DRCMC_.

She politely ignored Malfoy's, "Good morning, Granger," and knocked on the door once before walking inside to spot Remus sitting at his desk, fingers laced together and a worried look on his face. Normally, that look meant there had been a werewolf attack and Hermione would soon be sent to interview witnesses and possibly arrange for the care of any survivors. But Kingsley and Harry were standing beside him, the Minister looking angry and Harry appearing annoyed. "What's going on?" she asked.

"I tried to explain but —" Harry began but was cut off by Kingsley.

"Someone from the Administration and Records Department filed a complaint this morning," the Minister said and pushed a piece of parchment across Remus's desk. "Said that there was a chance Hermione Granger was being Imperiused or had most likely been illegally given a Love Potion."

Hermione, unable to stop herself, burst into laughter.

"I take it _I'm _the accused poisoner?" Draco drawled from behind her. "Are we sure it's a Love Potion I slipped her?" he asked, staring at the laughing witch. "Looks to be more like an Alihotsy Draught. Causes hysteria."

Kingsley narrowed his eyes. "This is not a joke, Mr. Malfoy."

"_She_ thinks it's funny," Draco pointed out.

Hermione took a breath and sighed as she sat down across from Remus, looking up and smiling at him. "How are you?" she asked. "Have any of these rotten individuals," she said and lazily gestured to the other wizards in the room, "even asked if you're doing well after Saturday's full moon, or did they just heap piles of garbage on your desk and tell you that I needed to be looked after?"

The werewolf smirked kindly at her. "I'm good, Hermione, thank you," he said. "But I am worried," he added. "This document says that you've signed a marriage contract to a known former Death Eater."

"_Former_ Death Eater," Draco said and then stopped himself, "Oh, you said that," he noted. "Apologies. I'm a little too used to correcting people." He sighed loudly and took a seat next to Hermione. "So, I assume Potter explained the circumstances of the arrangement?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I was told I was too close to the situation but, since I didn't want gossip spreading around the Ministry and Kingsley needed an Auror present, I volunteered," he said. "It's better me than Ron, trust me," he said emphatically.

"There's no problem, Minister," Hermione assured Kingsley. "The documentation is correct. I signed a marriage contract this weekend with Theodore Nott. Draco had the papers drawn up and Harry, Ron, Ginny were all present. Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass were there as well," she told them. "I have not been Imperiused and I've not consumed any forms of a Love Potion."

"Hermione," Kingsley said. "It was suggested that —"

"Who filed the complaint?" she asked, interrupting him.

"The file clerk that was on duty this morning. Miss Marietta Edgecombe," Kingsley replied.

Hermione grimaced. "Nosy bitch," she muttered. "She signed the non-disclosure agreement when she came to work here, didn't she?" she asked. "If anyone would try to get out of one of those, it would be her. I know, I wrote the damn thing myself when the Department Head heard I had a talent for layering hexes in paperwork."

Kingsley shook his head. "Miss Edgecombe has signed all paperwork and claims that she was only looking out for your best interest when she saw that —"

"Does she still wear her hair in front of her forehead?" Hermione asked with a mischievous grin and Harry chuckled loudly, forcing himself to cover his mouth when the Minister for Magic turned and glared at him. "Sorry," Hermione said. "I'm sure Miss Edgecombe was very concerned for my well-being when she saw I was getting married," she said sarcastically and rolled her eyes. "Shocker, Hermione Granger, betrothed to wealthy pureblood."

Remus cleared his throat, trying to hide the amusement in his voice as he said, "Hermione . . . unfortunately because someone _has _filed a complaint of this nature, suggesting that you've been magically compelled to sign this paperwork, we're forced to investigate. Since there's no evidence, I've asked to keep this within the Department and have only those of us present handle this unless . . ."

"Unless — after an interrogation — it turns out that I've done something to Granger," Draco finished the sentence and scoffed, offended. "Fine, pass over the Veritaserum so I can get back to work. And we're both still on the clock for this," he added. "I'm not having my pay docked because some bint down in Administration pointed the finger of blame in my direction."

"No," Hermione said. "If you're going to use a Truth Serum, I request Loqi Facilis. Fred and George make it, I know the Ministry keeps it on hand, and it's known to be less traumatizing on the ingester. I'll answer questions truthfully, but I'm not spilling all my secrets, especially considering this has to do with my personal life," she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest and making an indignant huffing noise.

Kingsley nodded in agreement and then turned to look at Harry. "Would you?" he asked.

Harry nodded and left the room to fetch the modified Truth Serum.

"So . . ." Remus said, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. "When's the wedding?"

Hermione grinned at him, pleased more than ever that the werewolf was given this position. She couldn't imagine being forced to deal with this situation with an annoyed Amos Diggory sitting in front of her. "April 21st," she told him. "Two weeks before a full moon so you'll be able to attend, and I hope you will," she said with a smile. "Perhaps Teddy could be my ring bearer."

Remus's widened eyes said that he was surprised by the date announcement but chose not to question her about the quick wedding. Hermione assumed he didn't want to imply that she might be pregnant and would likely offend her by asking questions. "He'll love that," Remus said. "What colours are you going with? Dora and I could ask him to match his hair."

Hermione smiled brightly, happy to have one person in her life that wasn't going to make a big deal out of this situation. She didn't have a chance to answer him as Harry walked back through the door, carrying two small vials in his hand, filled with a pink fizzing liquid, distinguishing itself from the usual demeanor of Veritaserum. "Does it still taste like pina colada?" she asked, holding her hand out for it.

Harry laughed and shook his head watching as Hermione downed the potion and then looked up expectantly at Kingsley while Harry handed a second vial to Draco.

"What is your name?" Kingsley asked her to verify that the potion worked.

Hermione struggled to say a lie as was protocol, but the Truth Serum fought back. "Hermione Jean Granger," she answered. "Nott soon, I suppose," she added. "I haven't decided yet if I'm changing my name. Are there laws about that?"

Draco answered her. "No, but it's tacky if you don't. Any heirs born should have Theo's name. Speaking of name's mine is . . . Draco Lucius Malfoy. And I'm offended that I have to go through this process. For all we know _Potter _could have poisoned Granger."

"Excuse me?" Harry glared down at Draco.

"What? It would be the perfect crime. Who would suspect _you_?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Next question please."

Kingsley sighed irritably. "Hermione, did you willingly sign a contract agreeing to enter into a marriage with Theodore Nott, known Death Eater?"

"_Former_ Death Eater," Hermione replied. "And yes, I willingly signed that contract. Wrote up a good portion of it too. You'll notice that if Theo and I both die, our combined vaults are to be split between several charities," she said, tapping her finger on the specific clause in front of her.

"Were you blackmailed or otherwise tricked into this arrangement?" Kingsley asked.

Hermione took a moment to think about her answer, grateful that she had requested this specific Truth Serum that only prevented lies instead of forcing the truth. "No," she said and then added. "I signed this agreement of my own free will."

Kingsley, suspicious of her answer turned and looked at Draco. "Draco, did you blackmail or otherwise trick Miss Granger into signing this contract?"

Draco bit down on his lip until it bled before he hissed out, "Yesss."

"Ugh," Hermione groaned. "Okay, so there was a _little _bit of blackmail in the beginning but I signed the agreement of my own free will and not because Malfoy tricked me. He was just being an arse about it."

Remus furrowed his brows and leaned across the desk. "Hermione, I haven't heard one word about you and Mr. Nott. Have you been dating?" he asked curiously, his tone implying that he was a friend and not interrogator.

"Not long," she replied.

"Are you in love with him?" Kingsley asked, also curious.

Hermione growled. "Not yet."

"You think you could be?" Harry asked, forgetting that she was under the Truth Serum.

Hermione glared at him. "I . . . c-can see a future where . . . fuck. Yes! Okay? Damn it Harry! Yes, I could very easily fall in love with Theo. He's brilliant and I enjoy talking to him and Luna's right, he's incredibly fit," she said, tossing a smug look at Draco before she stood and walked over to punch her best friend in the arm. "I'm on Truth Serum you arse! Don't ask me unofficial questions!"

Draco was laughing. "Granger, in love with a former Death Eater? Gods, this is fun."

She turned and punched him in the arm as well before looking back at Kingsley. "Is my romantic life done being put on trial now? I'm marrying Theo Nott and my reasons are my business. I'm not in danger. Malfoy was a prat when he suggested the arrangement, but I chose to go through with it on my own. Now, as my future marriage does not stand in the way of my job, may I return to it?"

Kingsley, looking thoroughly chastised by a witch half his age and size, nodded his head.

"Actually," Remus said, wincing. "Maybe stay in here until the potion wears off. Draco, you're free to leave. I highly doubt you conceal your feelings about people in the Department even when you're not on a potion," he said with a sigh.

Hermione smiled as she watched Kingsley, Harry, and Draco leave, closing Remus's door behind them. Once the door was shut, Hermione leaned forward and pressed her forehead into Remus's desk and groaned loudly. "Gods, I was really hoping to not have to deal with this today."

"So," Remus said leaning back in his chair. "Do you want to tell me what's _actually _happening?"

Hermione, realising that he'd asked the question in such a way that she could avoid speaking about the marriage contract if she actually wanted to, but frankly, she'd always trusted his perspective. "Can I ask you not to tell anyone what I say?"

Remus nodded. "For the girl who didn't tell anyone that I was a werewolf her third year?" He smiled at her.

"To be fair, I _did _eventually tell Harry and Ron," she confessed. "My mum's dying."

Remus's smiled faded instantly. "Oh, Hermione," he stood and rushed to the other side of the desk and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so sorry," he said, squeezing her tighter when she returned the hug. "Is there anything I can do?"

She shook her head. "They've already exhausted Muggle and magical means. Right now she says she just wants to live her life as normally as possible," she sniffled, desperate not to start crying again. "Doctors and Healers say there's no way to tell when she'll take a turn for the worse, so pretty much just enjoy the time while she has it."

Remus frowned. "Do you need time off work?"

Hermione laughed. "She'd throw a fit if I stopped working to dote on her. They barely want me around the house as it is. I'm only allowed over if I'm there to visit, have our weekly family dinner or, as of this weekend, I'm supposed to bring Theo by."

The werewolf stared at her for a quiet minute before asking. "Do you want to tell me what's going on with the marriage?"

"Theo needs a wife. I don't want to get into the details because, frankly, they're not mine to give. It would be like Tonks telling the world the details of your lycanthropy," she said and smiled sadly when understanding seemed to click in his gaze. "But . . . I agreed to go through with it because, in the heat of the moment, I recklessly told my dying mother that I was already engaged when she started crying about how she'd never live long enough to see me get married and have children."

Remus cringed. "Ouch."

"Yeah."

"You could tell her the truth," he suggested. "You can still get out of this."

Hermione shook her head. "I've thought about it and . . . I could do a lot worse than Theo Nott. He's a good man," she said, nodding. "I'm actually quite sad that the war and House rivalries made it so I was never able to befriend him at Hogwarts. I might have had actual help studying for O.W.L.s instead of keeping on top of Ron and Harry and then —"

"Having a complete and utter nervous breakdown?" Remus suggested with a grin.

She narrowed her eyes at him but smiled. "Getting a little overwhelmed," she corrected him and laughed. "Oh, Remus. What have I gotten myself into?" she asked.

"A marriage," he said smirking. "It's not so bad you know. Someone to share your thoughts with at the end of the day. Someone warm to sleep beside. Love is a nice thing and I'm sure it'll come to you if you work at it," he offered.

Hermione smiled. "Sex isn't half bad either, is it?"

Remus laughed. "Well, I wasn't going to say anything but . . ."

"Thank you." She chuckled. "I needed someone not to make a big deal about this. Someone to just tell me that I've made my decision and I can go through with it. Harry and Ron hover and as much as I love Ginny and even Daphne, they can be severely overwhelming."

"The wise old werewolf gives sage advice," Remus said with a grin. "Get back to work."

Hermione smiled and stood up, giving him a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

She left Remus's office and took an immediate break, wanting to make sure that she didn't accidentally burst into tears after confessing to someone about her mother.

After a peaceful twenty minute walk through the Ministry where she tuned out all the other people around her, Hermione returned to her desk to find a massive vase filled with daffodils, gladioluses, and irises. She smiled at the sight of the flowers, glad to not see something cliche like red roses. She would later ask Luna the meanings of each and be pleasantly surprised to have the blond witch answer, "Daffodils for new beginnings, gladioluses for faithfulness and honour, and irises, especially those blue ones, mean hope."

As she read the attached card, Hermione couldn't help but feel a blush creep across her cheeks.

_Hermione,_

_Draco owled me after your meeting this morning and informed me that you angrily bossed about the Minister for Magic for my sake. I wonder — in this strange situation we've found ourselves in — when you'll allow _me _to do something for _you_. Meet me for dinner?_

_Contractually (Kidding) Yours,_

_Theo Nott_

* * *

**A/N**: Because Remus makes everything that much better. My Remus addiction makes it difficult not to have her fall madly in love with him, and only my Theo addiction is keeping me in control. LOL! Predictions for Theo and Hermione's date?


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: I posted this on today's update over at Presque Toujours Pur, but yes, this is still my account (shealone) I just changed my name which is now also reflected on Pinterest, Twitter, and Tumblr. All links can be found on my freshly updated profile/bio. So this chapter is 2 days early. Why is it two days early? Because I am on a posting roll today! (Check out a new one-shot, Touched Fire - Charlie/Hermione) Someone should probably contact Fluffpanda and let her know that I've been left unsupervised!

**Guest, **Marietta didn't get in trouble because technically she didn't do anything wrong. She's a "nosy bitch" as Hermione said, but all she did was file a complaint. **Djomar**, No, Draco is likely to hold that secret just in case he needs it later. **Niflheim89**, I agree, which is why there's some Theo at the end of this chapter!

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Nine

* * *

**March 8th, 2004**

"So . . . what's the problem?" Ginny asked as she stood next to Daphne in front of Hermione's open closet door. The bookworm in question was kneeling down on top of a massive pile of clothes, most incredibly outdated according to both the redhead and the blonde.

Hermione was frantically digging through the pile, muttering something about a white blouse . . . "Or should I wear the green one? Is that too obvious? Will it look like I'm trying too hard?" she asked under her breath to no one in particular.

Daphne frowned. "Oh sweetie, I think this," she said and gestured to the entire scene in front of her, "looks like you're trying too hard."

"Why are you trying in the first place?" Ginny asked. "He's going to marry you. There's kind of little to no choice in the matter for him. I know it's a crappy situation to begin with, but you've basically landed yourself a pink tap-dancing unicorn of a husband."

Daphne laughed at the imagery. "Hermione, she's right. Sort of," she said with a soft smile. "Do you know how much of a struggle it is to get Harry to even go out in public? Even in Muggle areas where he won't be recognised?"

"Like pulling teeth?" Hermione asked.

Daphne's eyes widened. "What?"

Hermione sat up and pushed the frizzy hair that had fallen in her face back behind her ears. "It's a Muggle saying. It means it's very difficult, like pulling someone's teeth," she explained. At Daphne's horrified expression, Hermione went on, "Because pulling teeth out is difficult. At least without proper anesthetic and dental tools. It's actually an interesting process if —"

"Muggles pull out your teeth?!" Daphne shrieked. "I thought that was just a scary story that kids told around campfires! What else don't I know?!"

Ginny smirked. "They like to tie ropes around their waists and jump off of bridges. For fun."

"Without brooms?" Daphne asked.

Ginny nodded.

"Harry's not going to make me jump off a bridge is he?" she asked Hermione, genuinely looking a bit terrified. Behind her Ginny was struggling to contain herself as she watched the blonde go into the beginning stages of shock.

Hermione stared at her two female friends, shockingly disappointed that Luna couldn't make it tonight. Then they could have had a complete shared mental collapse. "This is why I was friends with boys in school, Hermione said firmly. Daphne, I need you to focus," she said pleadingly. "I don't know what to wear. Theo invited me out on a date and I have no idea where he's taking me and, therefore, I don't know how to dress."

"I'd make a point that you don't know how to dress, for Theo or not," Ginny pointed out as she reached down and plucked out a denim maxi skirt. "Hermione, didn't you buy this the summer before sixth year?" she asked, horrified.

Hermione snatched the skirt out of Ginny's hands. "It still fits and getting rid of it would be wasteful. Not everyone lives off of Holyhead Harpies Galleons," she said bitterly.

"Hermione, half of the things in your closet I'm fairly certain belonged, at one point or another, to Harry or Ron," Daphne said as she thumbed through the hangers spotting multiple faded Quidditch t-shirts and jerseys. "I understand that boys clothes are much more comfortable, and Theo might be incredibly agreeable to a lot of things considering he's a bit more laid back than the rest of the Slytherin boys I grew up with, but I think even he will take issue with you wearing something that has 'Potter' or 'Weasley' embroidered on the back of it," she said and pulled out two separate Gryffindor jerseys.

"I have one of those," Ginny said with a grin as she gestured to the Potter jersey. "Harry grew out of a bunch of these sixth year so Hermione and I snatched them up." She laughed at the memory. "Blaise throws a fit whenever I wear it. Leads to some amazing angry sex."

Hermione kicked at the pile of clothes in frustration. "I'm wearing yoga pants and my Weasley Christmas sweater," she said in defeat, crumpling to the ground. "Maybe some flip flops if I can't find my fuzzy house slippers."

While Ginny ignored Hermione's tantrum and started rummaging through her dresser, ignoring the way that Crookshanks was trying to nuzzle her leg for attention, Daphne knelt down on the pile of clothes next to Hermione. "Sweetie," she said and reached out to tuck a stray curl behind Hermione's ear. "Why are you so worried about this?"

Hermione pulled her knees into her chest and looked up at Daphne and sighed. "Theo doesn't want a marriage of convenience. And . . . neither do I. Already people are going to be speculating about why we're getting married and why so quickly. I haven't been in the _Daily Prophet_ in two whole years. Not since that article where I was accused of trying to break up Draco and Luna's marriage," she said angrily.

The article came out just shortly after the wedding where Hermione had been maid of honour, overjoyed to see her friend marry the love of her life, even if the love of her life happened to be Draco Malfoy. When the couple returned from their honeymoon, Hermione decided to be extra nice to her friend's new husband by taking him for a congratulatory cup of coffee, nothing out of the ordinary from their usual work day except now Draco was a happily married man. One photo snapped with Draco holding the door to the coffee shop open for her, and the next day the headline, _Habitual Harlot Hermione Steals Slytherin Spouse_ was printed across the Daily Prophet for everyone to read. She had been forced to hole up in the Ministry and Floo directly home every day from Remus's office instead of going out to the Atrium where reporters — and random angry civilians — were likely waiting for her. It felt like fourth year all over again and Hermione was not looking forward to what new gold digging rumours were going to surface when the Wizarding world found out that she was marrying Theodore Nott, wealthy scion of his House.

"I thought . . . I thought maybe if I tried to make it . . . make it real that it wouldn't feel so . . . so wrong," Hermione said with a frown.

Daphne sighed and pulled Hermione into a hug. "You're right," she said. "And I absolutely love that you're putting so much effort into this. I know that we put this on your shoulders, saving Theo, but I am actually very happy to know that he'll be well looked after by you. I actually think it's a good match and would like to believe that had the circumstances been different, we might have introduced the two of you without the threat of death lingering overhead."

Hermione nodded and tried to compose herself. "Why haven't I met Theo before?" she asked. "He wasn't at Pansy and Ron's wedding, or at Draco and Luna's."

Daphne shrugged. "Well, when Pansy and Ronald got married a lot of our friends went back to Hogwarts and kind of holed themselves up there. I think just a few were given permission to leave to attend the wedding. Then Theo's father went to trial and went to Azkaban and it was . . . it was pretty rough for him. I honestly think that Draco stuck around for his mother and then Luna when Narcissa moved away. Theo didn't have anyone. So he found an apprenticeship with a Curse-Breaker in Egypt and signed a contract to study there for several years. We only saw him during the occasional Christmas, maybe a week or two in the summers. He tried to get home for Draco's wedding but then there had been some sort of tunnel collapse in a tomb outside of Giza. He was safe but trapped."

Hermione felt herself slightly panicking. "Gods, he doesn't do that kind of work anymore, does he?" she asked. Granted she spent the majority of her time dealing with werewolves and other Beings, the occasional magical creature if she was paired with Draco for an assignment, but she had spent the majority of her childhood terrified that at any point in during the school year Harry or Ron would be killed either by Voldemort, random Death Eaters, or Quidditch. She wasn't certain if she could handle having a husband that worked a dangerous job.

Daphne eased her worries. "No, it's mostly securities for large businesses or dismantling wards for old properties that the Ministry or Gringotts seizes for one reason or another."

"Really?" Hermione asked. "How does that work?"

Ginny turned and stared at her friend. "Careful, if you ask Daphne all the questions about Theo, you're going to have to skip the small talk on your date and go right to the sex."

Daphne laughed and Hermione paled.

"'Mione?" Ginny said. "'Mione, I was kidding."

"What have I done?" Hermione asked, eyes wide. "I'm . . . I'm going to marry a man I don't know. I . . . we have to be bound. Bound, Ginny! Bound! Do you know what that means?" she asked, clearly panicking.

Ginny smiled sympathetically. "It means lifelong commitment. I know," he said, petting Hermione's hair affectionately. "Blaise and I talk about it all the time. And then we drink until we forget and shag while consuming a ridiculous amount of Contraceptive Potion."

Daphne frowned. "You're not helping."

Ginny nodded. "Hermione, you'll be fine. I know you've been through a dry spell, but having sex is just like riding a broom. You never forget how."

Hermione groaned. "I'm terrible at riding a broom!"

Ginny smirked. "Well, how good are you at riding a cock?"

"Out!" Daphne insisted, standing up and pointing to the door. "Go in the other room and pick out some shoes from her front closet. We'll match her clothes accordingly. One more inappropriate word and I will tamper with that Contraceptive Potion you and Blaise are so bloody fond of. You'll be setting up play dates with Pansy before Christmas!"

The redhead snickered and then slipped out of the bedroom, leaving the two witches alone. Daphne sighed as she turned back to look at Hermione, panicking on the floor. "Hermione, Theo doesn't expect anything. He's a perfect gentleman. He won't expect . . . I mean, sure there's the actual binding but —"

"He wants a real marriage, Daphne," Hermione said looking up at her friend. "And he's a pureblood. I don't know how to do this. You people are just . . . I mean half of the time everything seems so old fashioned. Who actually has marriage contracts anymore? And then am I supposed to pretend to be innocent and virginal like well . . . like you?"

Daphne laughed. "Oh, sweetie. It's adorable that you think that of me. Hermione, if I was as pure and innocent as I apparently come across, this engagement ring might be a tad bit smaller," she said looking down at her hand. "Harry had a good birthday last summer and in return I had a _spectacular _Christmas."

Hermione grimaced. "So then am I supposed to be like Ginny . . . or gods, Pansy?!"

"Definitely not Pansy," Daphne said, shaking her head. "Just be yourself. If Theo wants a real marriage I don't think he wants a fake wife."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know how to be engaged to a pureblood. A Slytherin."

The blonde slowly raise a pale eyebrow. "You do know we're just like everyone else, right? We're normal witches and wizards and without the Slytherin crest tattooed on our arses, you'd be hard pressed to pick us out of a lineup."

Hermione laughed.

"I know," Daphne said, blue eyes wide. "I thought it was a terribly inappropriate way to celebrate House pride, but we'd all just finished our O.W.L.s and Snape all but insisted on it," she teased and grinned when Hermione just laughed louder. "Harry thinks it's hot. Sometimes he tries to speak Parseltongue to —"

"All right!" Hermione said, still laughing. "I get your point. But . . . Daphne, you're not like everyone else," she said with a sigh. "Slytherins are . . . are . . . Malfoy."

Daphne smirked. "Draco's a special case."

"Pansy," Hermione countered.

Daphne smirked. "Well, she's just special."

"Blaise?"

Daphne pursed her lips and scrunched up her nose. "You know, you Gryffindors are just as bad. Ginny's an absolute deviant. Ron has absolutely no tact. Harry, like you, can't be bothered to dress himself, and the whole lot of you are hell bent on being heroes for the rest of your lives, no matter the cost associated with it," she said. "And the cost . . . isn't always that bad. Theo's a prize, and so are you."

Hermione sighed and leaned her head on Daphne's shoulder. "Am I being ridiculous? It is even possible to start a relationship based on an arranged marriage that was put together because his friends are manipulative and I was guilt tripped into this by Malfoy?"

"It's not a test," Daphne said. "You're not going to fail anything and no one is expecting you to be anything that you're not. Theo's not your instructor in all things pureblood or marriage. Something tells me that you'll both end up teaching one another a lot of new things."

Hermione smiled. "I'm glad you're going to marry my best friend. You're good for him."

The blonde grinned. "I'm glad you're going to marry _my _best friend. I think he'll be good for you."

oOoOoOo

Theo stared at himself in the reflection of his mirror, focusing as he applied the glamours to hide away the visible evidence of his illness. When he was done, he was hard pressed to try and forget he was sick at all, wondering briefly if, perhaps, the pain was all a figment of his imagination. The fatigue was getting to him though, reminding him of the reality of the situation that he found himself in. He reached into the cabinet on the wall where he kept the majority of his potions and quickly drank down an Invigoration Draught, some Pepper-Up, and a Pain Potion, slipping two extra of each into the pocket of his robes after casting an Unbreakable Charm on the vials.

He could still hear Draco and Blaise arguing in his bedroom.

"You are disgustingly vulgar," Draco hissed.

Blaise rolled his eyes and laughed. "How are you married to Luna Lovegood and still this uptight?"

Theo pushed his friends apart before they drew their wands. "It's a bloody tie," he said and snatched the strip of silk fabric from Draco's hand. "Wearing it doesn't make a man uptight and a lack of one doesn't make a man uncouth," he said, shaking his head in irritation. "I don't even know why I asked you both to help me with this."

"Because you're taking Granger to a Muggle restaurant and you don't know how to dress properly," Blaise offered. "Lose the tie. You'll look like a prat," he insisted.

Draco snarled. "He needs to make a good impression. Just because the contract is signed doesn't mean that she can't back out of it at any time before the binding. We need to think about this strategically."

Theo shook his head. "No. I'm not tricking her. I barely want to go through with this myself," he admitted. "But . . ." he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Blaise grinned. "But you're still nursing that childhood crush you had on the witch?"

"Shut up."

Draco shook his head. "I don't get it," he admitted. "Sure she's all right now, but in school she was a nightmare. All bossy, loud, and nothing but hair."

"She was intelligent," Theo said quietly. "I . . . admired her. Not that I could do so publicly," he added, glaring at Draco.

The blonde sighed dramatically. "Yes, I destroyed the grand love affair you'd concocted in your head over a Muggle-born that you became enamored with at fifteen. What the hell were you going to do with her at fifteen anyway?" he asked incredulously. "Walk her around the Black Lake? Look at the stars? We were teenagers."

Blaise snorted. "Wasn't Pansy sucking you off by that point? I'd hardly call that looking at the stars."

Draco grimaced at the memory. "It wasn't all fond memories for me, you know. Bitch bit me once. I almost feel bad for Weasel."

"Can we not talk about cocks before I go to dinner?!" Theo snapped loudly. "Fuck! I feel sick enough as it is, I don't need the image of Pansy on her bloody knees in front of anyone before I go and attempt to eat food that I'll probably throw up later anyways, in front of a witch that you're making me marry!" he yelled, glaring daggers at Draco.

His friends stared at him in silence, ignoring the outburst. Blaise eventually grinned. "Yep. Still nursing that childhood crush. Need a Contraceptive Potion?"

"I'm not having sex with her," Theo said and sighed, taking a seat on the edge of his bed to tie up his shoes. "She's . . . she's going to be my wife if she actually goes through with it. I don't want to fuck this up, and not just because my only other option is death."

"She doesn't know," Draco pointed out. "That she's the only one we asked, I mean. I lied and said we'd been searching around for months to find someone to marry you off to. I might have accidentally made her think that she was actually a last resort."

Theo stared at his friend, mouth open and blue eyes wide. "Blaise," he said quietly. "Hex him."

* * *

**A/N**: Check out my pinterest board for Tying the Nott to see my fancast choices for characters in this story. Ooo and suggest your own so I can pin them!


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Posting tomorrow's chapter early tonight in the hopes that it'll give me an excuse to use the extra time tomorrow to write more! For those who are interested, I'm reposting a final edited version of Debt of Time (having gone through at least five different Betas). The new chapters are replacing the old ones, but if you want to read (for the first time or re-read it) check it out over at Bewitching-Fiction dot com, where the edited chapters are being uploaded as they become available.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Ten

* * *

**March 8th, 2004**

They Floo'd to the Leaky from Hermione's flat and Theo insisted that they could walk the rest of the way to the restaurant he'd picked out. He'd very clearly applied glamours to his face to disguise the fact that he was fighting the illness that the curse was putting him through. The dark circles under his eyes were gone and his skin had more colour to it. She wondered if this was how he normally looked when healthy; if so, then Luna had been abundantly correct. Theo Nott was fit.

As they walked together, she glanced from the corner of her eyes to observe his features which she found were typical of Wizarding aristocracy; all sharp angles, but softer around the edges than most. Still, there was no denying that just by looking at him, one could feel that Theo Nott was of importance. He carried himself tall but lacked the arrogance that Blaise and Malfoy had. She couldn't help but feel a bit frumpy walking beside him, thanking Circe and Merlin and — more than anyone else — Ginny Weasley, for helping her learn to walk in heels years ago. His skin had a soft rosy quality to it which was how she picked up that he was using a glamour as the day before he was quite sallow and pale. His hair was a dark chocolate brown that almost looked black unless he stood in the light. The texture of it appeared soft and she could easily imagine . . . "Oof!" she said as she tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, smiling awkwardly as he caught her.

"Either you're terrible at walking or you're purposely trying to make us even by forcing me to rescue you," he said with a small smirk.

"Both?" she suggested and laughed nervously as Theo righted her back on her heels. "I'm . . . I'm nervous. This is ridiculous. I've been on dates before."

He put his hands in the pockets of his jacket, obviously Muggle but still well made. She hadn't seen him in such clothing during the two other times she'd met with him so she had to assume that he either had a secret Muggle fashion fetish like Draco or he'd borrowed the outfit from Blaise. Either way, Theo pulled off the Muggle look better than most Muggles.

"We have gone about this from the wrong end, haven't we?" He winced slightly. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm just as clueless about how to behave with you as you are with me."

Hermione chuckled. "Admitting weaknesses? Not very Slytherin of you."

Theo grinned at her, "Just areas that need improvement."

"Can we . . . can we pretend we're not getting married?" she asked and then sighed. "That's silly, of course we can't. We actually have things to discuss with regards to arrangements. I just . . . I kind of wish that we'd met under different circumstances and that this were all normal and I wasn't so very . . ." She groaned in frustration.

Theo stared at her for a long moment of contemplation. "I have an idea," he said and reached for her hand, tugging on it until she followed him where he stepped between two buildings near a cherry tree. He reached up and pulled a twig from the end of a branch that had two blossoms on it. He plucked one of the flowers between two fingers and then smiled as he tucked it behind her ear, winking at her and grinning when he saw her blush. With the other blossom and the twig, he fashioned it into a circle and smiled as he slipped it on the ring finger of her left hand. Glancing around, making sure no Muggles were looking, he withdrew his wand and waved it over her finger, transfiguring the twig and blossom into a silver banded-diamond ring.

"We're not about to be married," he told her. "And we're not on a first date," he said afterward. "You and I are Theo and Hermione Nott, just an ordinary happily married couple, out in Muggle London, celebrating our . . . five year wedding anniversary," he decided aloud after a moment of contemplation.

Hermione smirked at him and shyly bit her bottom lip.

"None of that now Missus Nott," he said, chucking her chin gently. "We've been married five years and while I _am _quite dashing, I hardly think I still have the ability to bring such a colour to those cheeks."

Hermione laughed and tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow as he held it out for her. "Very well, Mister Nott," she said. "Don't you think we were a little young to get married?" she asked. "Five years. That's almost right out of Hogwarts."

"Hardly too young," he insisted as they continued walking. "We were desperate for one another in school, all those hormones growing up. I was shocked we waited so long after graduation to jump to the altar. You were very enamored with me, you know."

Hermione threw her head back and laughed. "You're very full of yourself, aren't you?"

"_Was_ very full of myself," Theo corrected her. "You couldn't blame me, I was barely out of school. I'm much more mature now that I'm comfortably wed."

She smiled at him, finding herself strangely more relaxed over playing the part instead of trying to force herself into her actual role of date/fiance. Pretend wife was a surprisingly easy fit. "Thank you, Theo," she said softly. Her breath caught when he pulled her hand into his palm and brought her knuckles to his lips, brushing them ever so slightly.

"Anything for you, _wife_," he said with a chuckle.

Hermione's eyes widened when they arrived at their destination. An old Victorian fire station that had long since been converted into one of London's top — and also _most expensive_ — restaurants. "Theo, this is the Firehouse," she said. "It's too much."

"For a five year wedding anniversary?" he asked her. "I think it's quite appropriate," he said and then struggled to drag her inside. "Reservation for Malfoy," he told the girl at the front who smiled up at him, glazed eyes barely acknowledging Hermione who was staring at Theo with a curious look. He glanced at the witch and smirked mischievously in a way that silently said he would explain later.

"Of course, Mister Malfoy," the girl said in a simpering voice.

Hermione accidentally growled in the back of her throat and Theo chuckled at the amusing display of jealousy. He pulled her closer to him to force the hostess to acknowledge her, and when she did, she briefly looked disappointed.

"Right this way," the girl said and led them to a small reserved table between the bar and kitchen. A nook that appeared to have been carved out of the brick to originally house equipment for the old fire station that it used to be but now sat a small round table inside the private cupboard, covered with a white pressed linen tablecloth that Hermione noted looked more expensive than her bed sheets.

Theo tucked in beside her and Hermione suddenly felt bereft when he released her hand to pick up the wine menu and quietly ordered a selection. Her thumb ran over the transfigured ring on her finger, shocked by how strangely happy it made her feel while at the same time sad which only confused her. Her expression was likely very readable as Theo turned and stared at her for a few moments of silence before speaking.

"I . . . I planned tonight to be as Muggle as possible," he told her. "Originally, I wanted to stop at Gringotts to add you to the accounts and perhaps look in my vaults for a ring," he said, gesturing to the one on her finger she was toying with. "But I assumed that one, it would be hardly romantic on my part and if we're doing this for real then I should probably stop treating it as a business transaction," he said and then sighed, clearly the thought had weighed him down heavily. "And two, I figured it would be better to discuss a few things with you before we officially went public."

Hermione smiled sadly at him. "It really doesn't matter. The press is going to rip me to shreds no matter when we decide to go public."

Theo narrowed his eyes for a brief moment and then relaxed, but Hermione caught the stare and the hard look was reminiscent of young Slytherins she's grown up with when they were angry or mean or likely plotting something terrible. "If you refuse to back out of this arrangement," Theo began. "And you _do _still have that option. I won't fault you, I swear it on my honour . . . you should know," he cleared his throat. "There are few things I do not stand for, and disrespect is one of them."

Hermione furrowed her brows and then bristled at this words. "I meant no disresp —"

"I wasn't talking about _you _disrespecting _me_," he said and placed his hand gently over hers. "People are going to be rude to me no matter what. I was a Death Eater. Forced, coerced, threatened, blackmailed . . . it doesn't matter how I got it, I bear the Mark and the stigma that comes along with it and will do so for the rest of my life. I will not, however, stand for my wife to have her character disparaged by fame-seeking journalists."

Unsure of how to react, Hermione swallowed. "I can take care of myself."

He nodded. "And you've done quite well. Survived a war where you were a prime target at only eighteen-years-old. You fight for yourself, your friends, strangers, creatures, and sometimes even your enemies," he said with a softer smile, one that spoke of layers of buried humility. "No one can deny that you _can _take care of yourself and are able to defend your own honour. I would, however, ask for the _privilege _of doing it for you."

She stared into his earthly blue eyes in curiosity and couldn't help but be reminded of the way that Draco doted upon Luna like she was a fragile little doll, or the way Ginny was always fighting Blaise when he opened doors for her, ignoring the way that he'd smirk at her knowing that the chivalrous act riled her up. "You're asking my _permission_?" Hermione questioned. "To defend me?"

Theo nodded. "From time to time," he added. "I hardly think you're a woman who can be easily controlled or subdued. If I put a patriarchal foot down and insisted that you become a polite pureblood princess, I'd likely end up losing that foot," he said with a grin. "Besides, how boring would a life like that be? I'd be very much interested to see how you handled nosy reporters."

"I lock them in glass jars," Hermione said with a smirk.

Theo chuckled. "What I'm asking, is that you allow me to ease some of the pent up anger that I know will eventually come from seeing you belittled on my account. Not because you can't do it yourself, but because it's in my nature to be defensive over the people close to me. You, naturally, will be the closest."

She thought about the request for a long moment, watching his expression very carefully, looking for things that she'd learned from Malfoy over the years. Eye contact, little ticks in the jaw or movements with his hands that would indicate ulterior motives. Finding none, and shocked by the strange bit of honesty coming from a Slytherin, Hermione smiled.

They drank wine and were given a complimentary bottle when the owner discovered it was their "wedding anniversary". Hermione blushed and Theo grinned and added the cost of the bottle to the tip when the bill came. He slipped a plastic card to the waiter before returning to the plate of Tiramisu that Hermione insisted she couldn't eat on her own and pleaded with Theo to share it with her. He'd not eaten much during dinner, and she noticed each and every thing he put in his mouth, making a mental note of it for later. Still sick, still suffering, but pushing through it all just to help her through his awkward period of pre-marriage courting that she was certain had to be less uncomfortable for him because he was a pureblood who likely understood arrangements like this better than she did.

When the waiter brought the dessert with only one fork, Theo stared and waited for her to make the move to share as she had requested. Sharing food was strangely intimate, especially in such a romantic setting, but she gathered her Gryffindor courage and met the challenge head on, taking a bite first for herself and then holding another out for him.

Theo chuckled at her in amusement as though she were a kitten instead of a lioness, and she narrowed her eyes and decided to challenge his amusement by taking it a step further and moving closer to him. Calling her bluff, Theo moved his right arm and stretched it behind her shoulders, letting it fall behind her where the tips of his fingers ghosted against the back of her bare arm. Hermione made a squeaking noise and nearly choked on the bite of dessert in her mouth and she turned to glare at Theo.

He smiled innocently at her. "Something wrong?"

She shook her head firmly and then offered him another bite which he took eagerly, catching a bit of the chocolate sauce that had been drizzled over the top on the edge of his lip. He swiped it with his index finger and then sucked the digit into his mouth. Hermione stared at the movement, watching with rapt interest as his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip. She couldn't help but let the bite of dessert linger in her own mouth as she watched him, mentally aware that if he kissed her tonight, he'd likely taste of coffee, cocoa, and cream.

"Mister Malfoy," the waiter said when he returned. "Thank you again for dining with us this evening," he smiled gratefully and then handed Theo back the card.

Hermione's curiosity finally burst. "Okay, you have to tell me right now what's going on. Why do they think that you're Draco?"

Theo smirked. "Because when my wretched prat of a best friend decided to pin me to the ground and play dominant arsehole upon the announcement of our betrothal, I nicked his Muggle credit card from his pockets right after he released the Body Bind," he said with a gleam in his eyes. "I figure since he wanted this arrangement so badly, he could stand to pay for it," he said and then waved the credit card in front of her. "I have a sudden desire to take my future wife shopping for Muggle items she'd like to have in her new home."

Hermione's mouth fell open and she laughed loudly, forcing herself to cover her hands over her jaw to prevent causing a scene. "Oh, you're brilliant," she said.

"You'll have to take me around. I'm not familiar with Muggle London. I had to get a recommendation to this place from Blaise," he confessed. "Anywhere you want to go. Anywhere that might confuse the hell out of Draco when he sees the bill."

"We have to go to Harvey Nichols and John Lewis," Hermione said immediately and grinned when Theo looked perplexed.

"Who are _they_?" he asked and she giggled.

oOoOoOo

"Hermione . . . I'd like us to be fully honest with one another," Theo said as he walked her home, carrying the magically shrunken down bags of merchandise that they'd purchased in one tote, though it would likely fill an entire room at the Manor when unpacked. New bed sheets and drapes — red and gold to tease him — and a multitude of Muggle kitchen utensils that she promised she'd teach him how to use later. Draco was going to lose his shite when he figured out what had happened.

"If you are truly genuine about going through with this, which I still have to insist is unnecessary," he said and then smiled when she predictably rolled her eyes at him, "I want to start this marriage the way I want it to be lived. Honest. I don't want want you to be surprised to find that I'm a different man before and after the binding. I, likewise, would prefer to know the real you. No secrets, brutal honesty."

Hermione swallowed nervously, immediately worried that he was about to confess his true feelings about blood status or perhaps something worse. "Theo I —"

"Would you have considered dating me, were I not dying?" he asked her.

She paused and stopped her movements as they reached the front door of her flat, and she turned to look up at him. "I . . ." she paused. "I have been honestly thinking over the past few days of uncomfortable things I could possibly do to Malfoy to get back at him for not introducing us years ago," she confessed anxiously.

Theo grinned and Hermione felt her heart flutter. "End of the date," he said. "I have to admit, I'm not entirely sure how to proceed from here. You're not a typical witch. As much as we can pretend otherwise, we signed a contract and in little over a month you'll be my wife. I feel . . ." He took a moment to ponder the thought. "I feel a strong need to, preserve these early moments," he said and reached up to brush his knuckles lightly against her cheek. "Instead of . . ." he breathed heavy and swallowed as his gaze briefly flickered down the curve of her neck and over the swell of her breasts. "Acting impulsively."

Hermione let out a heavy exhale and laughed nervously. "Daphne . . . Daphne said you were a gentleman."

Theo smirked. "I like to think so. But . . . honesty," he reminded her. "I like to think of myself as less gentlemanly and more . . ." he paused to think of the proper word, licking his bottom lip before speaking again, "accommodating."

There were pages and pages of definitions that hung on that word and the tone with which he spoke it. Hermione leaned against the front door to her flat and felt the cool metal against the heat of her skin and she was shocked that steam wasn't pouring off of her as she stared up at him. Her stare was a mixture of fearful anxiety and needy anticipation and Theo seemed to be warring with himself over which of her issues he wanted to address.

His eyes were dark and with the colour glamoured onto his cheeks he looked neither weak or sick but instead strong and intimidating in a way that made her knees slightly weak. The few men Hermione had been with were hardly even equal to her own strength. She and Ron had been childhood sweethearts, if they were even that. The few fumblings they experienced together were awkward at best and embarrassing at worst. The few Muggles she'd dated over the years sadly reminded her of how frail and naive they were to the dangers of her world. She'd dated Terry Boot for six months several years ago, shortly after her brief relationship with Ron ended, and he was very sweet but barely left her feeling content. She didn't want contentment, she wanted . . . _adrenaline_. The way Theo towered over her and stood just a fraction of an inch too close to her had her gulping in the hot air around her, unsure of what his next move would be. It was a heady experience and she could feel the heat on her skin slowly creeping up her chest and neck to settle in her cheeks.

Theo reached for her hand and moved to politely kiss her knuckles and Hermione briefly felt disappointed until he turned her palm and placed a tender, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her wrist. She felt the warmth of his lips and when he brought his eyes up to look at her before placing another kiss there, she shivered at the sight of his dilated pupils and immediately began imagining waking up in the same bed as this man for the rest of her life.

He released her hand and then leaned forward to very lightly brush a kiss against her cheekbone, his breath tingling against her ear as he whispered, "I'll be a gentleman and contain myself . . . _tonight_."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Congrats to the Brits who noticed that I was basing the restaurant Hermione and Theo went to off of the actual Chiltern Firehouse restaurant in London! Also, thanks to my best Brit, **Pagan Ianthe** who gave me the tips on where Theo and Hermione would go shopping in Muggle London! There aren't any Q&amp;As today because the majority of you asked if you could have Theo and the answer is yes, but he's on a rotating basis. **Colubrina** has him now, and I have a feeling she'll fight you to the death for him. Have at it.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Eleven

* * *

**March 9th, 2004**

When Theo dropped Hermione off at her front door and left her there in a puddle of confusing need and want, she slipped into her flat and poured herself a large glass of wine in an attempt to calm her nerves which were buzzing, especially on the inside of her wrist and side of her cheek where she could still feel his lips. She blamed her eager responsiveness to his touch on years of pent up frustration and a bad habit of replacing the romantic element in her life with work. After pouring a second glass of wine — she could still smell the after dinner mint he'd been sucking on during their walk back to her home — Hermione threw up her security wards, closed the Floo, and then locked her doors the Muggle way in an attempt to keep herself shut in just in case she drank a little too much and found herself drunkenly stumbling into Nott Manor the same way she'd done in Malfoy and Luna's home days earlier.

The charm on the transfigured diamond ring around her finger eventually faded, leaving her with the knotted cherry blossom. Hermione smiled wistfully at it as she placed the pink flower between the pages of an old edition of Grimm's Fairy Tales and then fell asleep on her sofa with the book tucked gently beneath a pillow.

She woke the following morning after a delightful dream that included eating Tiramisu off of a pale, bare chest while blue, lust-filled eyes watched her while whispering Malfoy's credit card number in her ear like a sonnet. After a decidedly cold shower, Hermione found herself desperate for a cup of coffee and left for work early so she could grab one on the way.

When she arrived at her office, grateful to note that Draco wasn't there yet, Hermione pushed open her door and smiled at the sight of a new vase sitting on her desk filled with familiar pink flowers. She smiled brightly at the welcoming sight, not usually one for cliche gifts, but Theo appeared to be thoughtful when choosing floral arrangements.

She set down her cup of coffee and reached for the attached card when someone whistled from the doorway. "Who's sending you flowers, 'Mione?" Tonks asked and grinned as she slipped inside of the office. Hermione blushed and hid the card quickly as the purple-haired Auror approached. "Wow. These are so pretty!"

"Cherry blossoms," Hermione said. "I . . . I kind of have a boyfriend."

Tonks raised a curious brow. "How do you _kind of _have a boyfriend?"

Hermione winced and searched her mind for a logical answer. "When he's something else as well but . . . but . . ." She sighed. "I can't really get into it."

Tonks grinned deviously. "Secret love affair?" she asked and then sighed as she leaned against the doorframe. "Ah, I remember when I had one of those once. And then I got hitched, had a kid, and it's all been downhill from there."

Hermione smirked at the sight of Remus stepping up behind his wife, his brows furrowed in mock irritation. Tonks was already grinning, likely having noticed his approach long before she started speaking. "Morning, love!" she said brightly and kissed his cheek as though they hadn't seen one another before leaving their house.

He smiled and kissed his wife. "Morning," he said and then looked up. "Hermione, more flowers?"

"Apparently."

"They're very lovely," he said and then gestured to a stack of folders on the edge of her desk. "I signed off on those papers you needed so you can send them to the Records Department whenever you're ready."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Wonderful, thank you," she said and waved as Remus and Tonks closed the door as they left her office. Taking her seat, she flipped open the folders to look over the cases that were finally being closed regarding a pack of werewolves who had finally accepted assistance from the Werewolf Support Services in exchange for signing the registry. It had been a long process that involved several meetings with both Hermione and Remus, but in the end they were better off for it and had been provided with Wolfsbane for free.

With that case off of her mind, Hermione reached back for the card from Theo and smiled upon opening it.

_Hermione,_

_If parting ways last night was as difficult for you as it was for me, please accept these flowers along with my deepest apologies. I have business to deal with today, but I hope you'd be willing to accompany me to lunch tomorrow, perhaps we can get some errands done at Gringotts if you're up to it. Let me know your schedule._

_Yours,_

_Theo_

"Mistress likes the flowers?" a squeaky voice said from behind her.

Startled, Hermione screamed, "Holy shite!" and jumped from her chair, practically leaping over her desk in the process. By the time she turned back, wand in hand to see the little elf standing behind her chair, nervously tugging at her bat-like ears, Hermione's heart rate had skyrocketed. "Umm . . . oh my gosh," she said, catching her breath as the little elf tugged harder on her ears. "No, no, please don't get upset," Hermione pleaded. "You just startled me. Quiet little thing, aren't you? Umm . . . Pixy, right?" she asked, recognising the creature from Theo's home.

The elf nodded. "Yes, Mistress."

Hermione grimaced at the term. "Pixy, I am not your Mistress."

Pixy frowned and looked desperately confused. "You's marrying Master?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed.

"Then you's Mistress."

The witch sighed, recalling similar conversations with Swishy — who refused to call her anything but Missy Granger — and Kreacher — who had finally stopped calling her Mudblood. "Can you just call me Hermione?" she asked Pixy.

The elf looked emotionally torn. "Pixy . . . has . . . mustn't . . ." she struggled to speak.

"Oh, for crying out loud. Fine," Hermione conceded, making a mental note to figure out how to get out of owning an elf via marriage. "Pixy, is everything all right?" she asked. "Why are you here?"

The elf adjusted her tea towel apron and stood tall. "Pixy comes to see if Mistress needing her for anything."

Hermione shook her head immediately. "No. Pixy, I'm quite all right."

The elf frowned looking defeated and lost at Hermione's words of obvious dismissal. "Pixy has . . . Master said . . ."

"What did Theo say?"

"Master is not feeling well," Pixy replied. "Master told Pixy to find someone else to hover over."

The specific words had Hermione frowning. She glanced down at the card still on her desk, written in Theo's handwriting. "Theo's sick?" she asked, scolding herself for not paying enough attention to him last night. He'd barely eaten anything and walked around London with her for hours likely hopped up on Potions if what Draco said about the curse and it's symptoms was true. "He doesn't have business today?"

Pixy shook her head. "Master comes home sick last night. He not be sleeping," she said, her voice obviously sad. "Potions not be working."

"Pixy, when was the last time Theo ate anything without getting sick?" Hermione curiously asked.

The elf looked nervous as she spoke, "Pixy fixes Masters favourites," she said, her tone one of submission but her words were defensive, thinking that Hermione was blaming her for Theo's lack of appetite. "Pixy's a good elf. Pixy tries very hard."

The witch sighed in frustration, cursing the Wizarding world as a whole for teaching the little creatures to fear them in such a way. "I'm sure you do, Pixy but . . . Theo's very sick and you . . ." she paused, looking over the cherry blossoms in the vase, "_we _need to take care of him in special ways. I . . . Pixy, if I get you a list of food, can you get everything for me?" she asked as a thought occurred to her. "I'm not able to access Theo's vaults yet, but I know that house-elves that run manors are allocated a budget for managing the home, correct?"

Pixy nodded excitedly, obviously thrilled to have something to do. "Pixy can shop! And Pixy pulls from the gardens."

Hermione smiled. "Wonderful. Pixy, this is where I live," she said as she reached into a desk drawer to pull out some parchment and a quill, jotting down the address to her flat. "I want you to meet me here in an hour? All right?"

The elf beamed brightly at Hermione. "Mistress is a wonderful Mistress," she declared joyfully. "Pixy goes!" she said and the vanished out of sight.

Hermione sighed in frustration and picked up the stack of folders, binding them temporarily together and tapping her wand on the bundle to send it off to the Records Department for filing. Once that was done, she drank down the rest of her coffee quickly before binning the cup and closing her door.

She knocked lightly on Remus's door before walking in to find him hovering over a stack of parchments. "Remus? I really hate to do this, but can I have the day off?" she asked with a frown.

The werewolf's eyes widened. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his tone one of shock and worry. "Is your mother —"

"No, no, nothing . . . nothing like that." Hermione pursed her lips in worry, a part of her wondering if she would eventually have to come into this office again to tell Remus she needed time off because something had happened with her mother. _No_, she thought to herself. _Can't think of that now_. "I just . . . I can't really explain but I need to take care of some things."

Remus nodded and then gestured for her to take a seat. When she had, he leaned back in his chair and observed her quietly before speaking. "Hermione, as your friend and boss can I ask a favour of you?"

She suddenly sat up straighter, not at all noticing the similarities between herself and Pixy when presented with a task, especially one that would serve others. "Absolutely, anything you need," she declared.

"When is your wedding again?"

Her brows furrowed. "April 21st," she answered hesitantly.

Remus nodded. "Take off work until then, and an extra week or two after that for a honeymoon."

She felt the breath leave her lungs and forced herself not to clutch at her chest. "What?! What have I done?" she asked, eyes wide as she stared across the desk at her boss, her friend, who was apparently very, very cross with her. She began mentally going over the last ten cases or so, thinking if anything had gone amiss in the organisation of them. There had been that one incident with the merpeople, but she fully blamed that on Malfoy and if it hadn't been for her as a mediator, the local Apothecaries would have had to pay triple the price for gillyweed this season.

"What have you done? Don't you mean what _haven't _you done?" Remus laughed and at the sound, Hermione nearly cried. "You've worked too much, Hermione," he insisted. "You've taken a total of _four _vacation days since you started working at the Ministry years ago. One was for a wedding, the other for a birth, and the last two you took off sick and then ended up overloading yourself with Pepper-Up Potion and coming in for the last half of the day. You need a break."

She cringed. "I don't _want _a break," she said petulantly, very close to stomping her foot in protest.

"You still need one," he said. "You _deserve _one. With everything going on with your family —"

"I don't need time off for that, Remus," she replied irritably. "My parents aren't even letting me help out because they want everything to feel normal."

He nodded in understanding. "Then take the time off to plan your wedding. Knowing you, you'll be stressing about it and, as devoted as you are to your job, it's depressing when you work yourself sick," he honestly told her. "You and Draco fight more often because you're tired and he provokes you, and then I have to put up with the Auror Department because Harry and Ron come down here to peacock around in your defence."

She snorted indignantly. "I can defend _myself_."

He grinned at her. "I know. I seem to remember you had a brilliant instructor. Handsome too."

She laughed. "And so very humble."

Remus stood and walked around his desk, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Take the time off. We have no new cases and _if_ there is some emergency, I will send a Patronus immediately and call you back in, I swear it."

She stood up, still frowning even as he wrapped her in a hug. "This feels like a punishment."

"It is," he told her. "You're being punished for not taking better care of yourself. Now go, do what you need to do and I'll see you this Sunday at the Burrow for dinner?"

She nodded. "I'll be there."

"You'll bring your . . ."

She sighed at the thought of bringing Theo to the Burrow. It was one thing to have Pansy there with Ron, Daphne there with Harry, and even Blaise occasionally showed up with Ginny, though more often than not he left early because Molly would scold him for bothering her in the kitchen, sticking his fingers in whatever she happening to be making. But _Theo_? At the Burrow? Oh gods, and she would have to tell everyone that she was getting married and there would be so many questions and . . . "Maybe," she answered. "I'm not sure if I want to tell everyone by myself or with him there. And if anyone's rude to him, Pansy's going to throw a fit and go into labor and then we'll all have to deal with Molly screaming. Maybe I'll just send a note. Care to play owl for me?"

Remus scoffed. "Some Gryffindor."

She smirked. "Have a good day, Remus."

oOoOoOo

When she arrived outside of her parent's house, she hesitated before walking inside. Despite it being her childhood home, she couldn't help but worry that she'd accidentally walk in to find her mother sick and then be asked to leave lest she beg to help. Again. While she was busy contemplating her next move, her father opened the door. "Hermione, what're you doing here, sweetheart?" he asked. "I've been watching you pace in front of the door for the last five minutes."

She sighed and then stuck out her bottom lip. "I've been temporarily evicted from my job."

"What? What happened?"

"Remus is forcing me to take vacation."

He laughed and then pulled his daughter into his arms. "Oh, you must be heartbroken," he said with a sympathetic — and slightly mocking — tone.

"Don't tease. Where's Mum?"

"At the office."

Hermione pulled away from him and stared. "What?"

"We told you, Hermione. She has good days and bad days. Today is a very good day," he said with a smile, "and she went in to take care of some paperwork and a few cleanings. Easy work, short hours and she knows her limitations. I was getting ready to head over there myself but we had a little trouble with the upstairs bathroom and, despite being handy enough to fix it myself, your mother insisted we hire a plumber to come and take a look. He just left before you showed up."

She nervously chewed on her bottom lip. "Are you sure she should be —"

"She's fine," he promised her. "Living life. Like _you _should be instead of worrying about her. That's _my _job. The husband worries, the daughter lives her life, makes her parents proud, is forced to take vacation, and brings her fiance — that her parents still haven't met — over for dinner," he added with a pointed glare.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's in the plans, I promise."

"He didn't ask my permission."

Hermione scoffed. "I would have hit him if he had tried."

"Still . . . gesture would have been nice," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "You're my only daughter."

"He's a pureblood wizard and doesn't understand Muggles very much," she said, making up an excuse and wondering how much of her relationship with Theo she was going to need to fabricate. She had insisted that her friends all know the truth when it came to signing the contract, but when it came to her parents and likely the Weasleys and the rest of the world, Hermione was worried about what to say. Theo said he wanted their marriage to be based on honesty, but she didn't even want to think of the headlines that the _Daily Prophet_ would surely come up with. "There's a lot that's lost in translation. Very serious culture differences. I promise I'll bring him by soon. In fact, he's kind of why I stopped here. Theo's not feeling very well, and I wondered if I could borrow some of those new cookbooks that you and Mum bought to help her with her nausea."

Richard frowned. "Sick? Nothing serious I hope."

She didn't answer right away but only smiled for a moment and then said, "Just something he unfortunately picked up. Two of his friends had it recently and they're just fine now. It's not contagious to Muggles, by the way. I wouldn't put either of you in danger."

Richard chuckled. "Heard that before," he said, referring to Hermione's need to protect both of her parents in the face of the Wizarding war. When she turned and frowned at his words, he sighed. "I'm just teasing you, sweetheart," he promised and kissed her forehead. "You're more than welcome to the books. Let your young man know that we hope he feels well enough soon so we can have him over."

Hermione forced a smile, hating herself for lying to her parents about Theo. "I will, Dad. Thank you. Please . . . please let me know if there's anything I can do. I . . . I feel helpless," she confessed.

He frowned and pulled her back into his arms. "I know you do. I felt the same way," he admitted. "I'm sorry we kept it from you. When you have kids of your own, you'll understand. Then again, everything you've gone through and you did your best to protect _us_, I suppose you already do know what it's like."

Hermione whispered, "This is terrible payback."

Richard nodded in agreement. "I know. It wasn't very creative of us. Go," he said and tugged on a lock of her hair with a smile. "Live. It'll make her happy."


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Because it's May 2nd (or will be in a short while) I'm uploading an extra chapter in honour of the Battle of Hogwarts. Also to remind myself that my stories generally keep Remus and Fred alive.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Twelve

* * *

**March 9th, 2004**

Nine vials of three different potions mixed with two glasses of wine at dinner, scallops — or was it shrimp that he actually ate? — and then the few shared bites of dessert. He'd caught her staring at him throughout dinner, watching as he brought anything to his mouth; the wine glass, his napkin, a forkful of whatever he blindly ordered off of the menu. He, however, had been paying more attention to the conversation and the way the candlelight brought out the various shades of colour in her hair. Caramel, cinnamon, honey, and a lighter tone that reminded him of the coffee she'd drank in the breakfast nook with him the day before once she'd added too much cream.

He remembered staring at her hair back at Hogwarts, observing the various shades in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, admiring the variety with a curious interest, noting that it wasn't one solid colour like Pansy's heavy black locks or Daphne's golden blond. He'd been reminded of the crups that his mother bred when he was a child. How she'd purposely pair similar coloured pups in order to breed out the shades of fur she disliked. Bred them down and down through the generations until they were weak, sick, and dying, but the colour of fur was _finally _to her liking. Theo didn't seem to understand why someone would prefer a pretty but stupid and sickly pet. Draco's eagle owl was hideous and frightening but yet perfectly effective at its job.

Muggle-borns like Hermione Granger intrigued him. She was both brilliant and lovely, though not in the way that Daphne was, or even the big-chested blond Gryffindor that half the boys in Hogwarts panted after, Weasley included, sometime during sixth year if Theo remembered correctly. No, Hermione was different. She didn't smile at boys in the corridors or flirt with Quidditch players. But her eyes sparkled when Professor Vector told her that she was so ahead of the rest of the class in Arithmancy that she would do better to go around and help the other students. Theo feigned ignorance on a calculation just so that she'd have to help him. She had explained the variable as quickly as possible and he could see her briefly flinch at the colour of his robes. Slytherin, like Draco, who had been bragging a week earlier that a stray hex had hit the girl in the face, enlarging her teeth. Staring quietly at her as she looked over his calculations, he noticed that she'd had Draco's hex reversed, and quite possibly something else. She also had three freckles beneath her left eye.

Sitting with her at dinner Theo noted those same three freckles and how her eyes sparkled when she talked about her work or her friends. They darkened when she watched him bring his glass of wine to his lips and, despite knowing he'd suffer for it later, he'd ordered a second glass, scolding himself for being pathetically romantic. And suffer he did. Waking up that morning with a headache that he could feel in his toes, Theo scribbled a note to Hermione and arranged to have a vase of cherry blossoms sent to her work before he tossed back more potions in a desperate attempt to dull the pain, to ease the nausea and sickness that reminded him he was dying.

When his bedroom door cracked open close to noon, Theo groaned. "Pixy, I'm sorry I was irritable this morning with you, but I meant what I said. I don't need you doting on me and —"

"Interesting," a voice that did not belong to his head house-elf said and Theo's eyes widened at the sound. "Black bedsheets. Is it weird I expected green or silver? I mean, mine aren't red or gold but for some reason I just naturally associate everything you Slytherins do with those colours."

He blinked several times staring down at his pillow, waiting to see if the voice continued or if he'd had a brief hallucination.

"You know, the first time I saw Draco in grey dress robes at work, I nearly laughed," she admitted. "He had been wearing a green silk tie though."

Theo slowly rolled over and looked to see Hermione Granger standing in his bedroom doorway, a silver tray in her hands, carrying a tall glass of juice and bowl that had steam rising out of it. "What . . . I . . ." he stammered as he just stared at her.

"Black sheets though?" She smirked and raised a brow at him. "No one owns black sheets unless you want someone to see them, Theo," she said as she approached the bed, placing the tray down on a side table. "It's like lingerie. Cotton you wear for yourself, lace you wear for someone else."

He noted that she didn't blush when she spoke but he couldn't help but wonder if some colour hadn't perhaps returned to _his _face as a sudden image of Hermione Granger wearing lace lingerie, sprawled across his black sheets came to his mind. "Her . . ." he cleared his throat. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

She smiled sweetly down at him. "Well, I was told in a fancy little contract that _technically _I live here now. None of my things have been moved yet, but really, that's just a formality isn't it?" Then, without another word, she sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned forward, pressing the cold palm of her hand against his forehead and cheeks. Despite wanting to remain in control, he'd leaned into her touch, relishing the chill that swept across his heated skin.

"I mean, aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"You're sick," she replied.

Theo sneered at the words and Hermione quietly laughed. "Did Professor Snape teach you all how to do that directly after the Sorting?"

"Did Professor McGonagall teach you all how to . . ." he paused. "What is it, exactly, that you're doing here?"

"You're sick. I'm taking care of you," she said slowly as though she were worried he wouldn't be able to keep up.

Theo frowned and tried to sit up, forcing away the cringe that wanted to escape when pain shot through his body. "Hermione, that's completely unnecessary, you're already sacrificing —"

"Sacrificing my life to marry you," she said in a mocking tone, interrupting him. "Yes, well, if I'm sacrificing my life already to marry you, then there's not much left to sacrifice by looking after you when you're ill, is there?" she asked.

"But your job —"

"I took some time off to plan the wedding," she said, and the way she looked away from him briefly said that she wasn't telling him the whole story. "_This_ is my job now," she insisted, leaning forward and adjusting his pillows, breaking into his personal space in a way that only his friends ever did when they wanted to annoy him. "Draco Malfoy begged me to marry you," she told him. "I think he might have hurt himself doing it and, as amusing as that was to see, I think it would be rather cruel of me to let all of his efforts go to waste if I didn't help actually get you to the wedding, don't you think?"

Theo's brows furrowed. "Hermione, this isn't necessary. I have elves —"

"Who you dismissed," she said knowingly. "Stop arguing with me please, Theo," she asked. "Now sit up."

He disliked being doted upon and, even worse, appearing weak. But he couldn't help but think that only a fool would dismiss a witch from their bed, especially one that fluffed their pillows. "Not to keep arguing with you," he said, glancing over at the silver tray. "But if we're going to be honest with one another —"

"You mean like the _business _you needed to handle today?" Hermione asked with a raised brow.

Theo smirked at her. "Yeah," he said, not even apologising. "You should know that I don't eat a lot lately so, as much as I appreciate you having the elves make me lunch —"

"The elves didn't make this, I did," she told him. "The kitchen is beautiful; I think I'll enjoy cooking in there quite a bit so long as the elves stay out of my way. Poor things," she said with a loud sigh. "I had to literally order them to go and do something else. I hope you needed the floors mopped in every room because, well, that's what's being done right now."

Theo stared at her, shocked. "You . . . you cooked me food?"

"Take this," she said, ignoring his question and placing two tablets in the palm of his hand. "Painkillers."

"Pain Potions don't work," he told her.

Hermione smiled at him. "And you'll notice that I didn't give you a potion. Are you always this difficult?" she asked.

Theo shrugged and threw the tablets in his mouth, noting that her eyebrows raised slightly in response. By the look on her face, he figured that she assumed he'd throw a fit about the pills. She smiled and placed a glass of juice in his hand and he swallowed the tablets down but grimaced at the taste of the liquid. "What is this?" he asked, staring at the drink. "It's not juice."

"Milk thistle tea brewed with a bezoar," she replied.

Theo frowned. "I haven't been poisoned," he told her. "And milk thistle isn't used in antidotes."

"Drink it all," she told him. "Milk thistle will help cleanse your body of all of those potions you've been taking and the bezoar will give it a little boost. Honestly, Theo, you were in Advanced Potions with me, how do you not know that taking Pain Potions and Invigoration Draughts will make you nauseated?" she asked him with a frown.

Theo's lips parted. "You remember that?"

She stared at him. "Remember that Pain Potions and Invigor —"

"You remember that I was in Advanced Potions with you?"

Hermione paused and sat up. "I . . . of course," she said. "We didn't speak to one another for obvious reasons, but I knew you were there. You were in Arithmancy with me as well. Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures and —"

"I didn't think you knew who I was," he blurted out and then to cover his words, he drained the glass of horrible tasting tea, hoping that she wouldn't fill the silence by continuing where he left off from their years at Hogwarts. She didn't, thank Merlin. When he finished the last drop, Theo swallowed and then set the glass aside. "I know it causes nausea but the pain is too much to _not _take a potion most days, and since it has a sedative factor, I have to take the Invigoration Draught to stay awake for . . . well, anything."

"No more potions," Hermione said. "Not unless I brew them myself. They won't work. You've been cursed, Theo; simple potions can't fight Dark Magic like that."

He looked at her defeatedly. "Then what can? And how would you know?" he asked, his tone slightly bitter.

Hermione frowned. "Because I've been cursed before," she said and scratched at her forearm. Theo's gaze was drawn there where he saw the raised scar on her flesh, but he purposely ignored it and looked back up into her eyes. She hesitated, looking him over curiously before speaking again. "You don't pity me."

He raised a brow. "Should I?"

"Most do. Draco does. He flinches anytime he sees it. Harry and Ron always look away and Daphne once told me that Harry asked her if she would take me shopping so she could pick out all of my blouses, make sure they're long sleeved," she said, very little emotion in her voice.

Theo observed her carefully. "Does that upset you? That they want to control you to make themselves feel better?"

Hermione shook her head. "It upsets me that it still upsets _them_. Do any of us buy Harry headbands to cover the scar on his forehead?" she asked.

"You could buy him a hat," Theo suggested. "That hair is a disaster."

Hermione smiled, genuinely smiled, and then leaned forward and raked her fingers through his hair and he shivered in response, involuntarily moaning at the contact and then pausing when he heard the noise escape his throat. "Umm . . ." he cleared his throat.

Hermione blushed for a moment and then smirked at him. "You're quite responsive. Can't help but think that knowledge will come in handy later on."

Gryffindor bravery, Theo thought with amusement, noticing how she was forcing herself to confront the awkward situation by facing it head on. She was taking the shite they'd been given by Voldemort and their friends and controlling it to the best of her ability. No pussyfooting. No tiptoeing. She was diving into the idea of marrying him head first into the deep end.

He hoped she could swim.

He hoped she moaned when he inevitably delved his fingers through _her _hair.

"It's just a scar," he said, returning to their earlier conversation. "A scar that happens to look like a word that doesn't mean anything to me. It could say 'pink hippogriff' on your forearm. Wouldn't make you one."

Hermione smiled and he could tell that she almost believed his words. "Maybe we're more alike than I thought," she said.

Theo bristled and shook his head. "No. You didn't do that to yourself," he said, gesturing to her arm. "I was a Death Eater. Draco was a Death Eater and so were all of our friends with the exception of Blaise and that was only because Harry Potter had really good timing there at the end. We might have been blackmailed, coerced, or even threatened into it, but it's what we were. We had the brand, wore the robes, donned the masks, and followed his orders."

Hermione looked like she was trying very hard not to roll her eyes. "It was a war."

"And there were casualties," Theo said. "How many people did _you _kill?" he asked, clearly trying to make a point, expecting her answer to obviously be none.

"Three," she replied to his shock.

"What?" he asked. "But . . . but you were the _good _guys. They . . . you . . . you don't kill people."

"Theo," she looked over at him and frowned. "It was _war_. We were children defending our lives and the lives of our friends. The first person I killed was a Snatcher. I never learned his name. Before we were taken to Malfoy Manor, I threw two Stinging Hexes. One hit Harry in the face, disfiguring him as I'd planned, and the other hit a man in the chest and he suffocated to death because his friends were too busy trying to capture us rather than helping him. The other two were Death Eaters, crushed to death under a wall that I exploded at the final battle."

Theo watched her eyes, noting the changes as she spoke. Sparkle lost, gaze hardening as she mentioned killing people in battle. In war. To survive. To live. Theo cleared his throat and decided to put them on even ground. "Two Muggles at a revel just before seventh year," he said. "Every Death Eater had their favourite way to murder, you know. My father was a fan of drowning people. He didn't even realise that I'd sent the Killing Curse at his victims he was too busy holding their heads under water at the river bank where we'd found them. And before you say that I was being a good person by putting them out of their misery," he added. "I killed a woman that Christmas because I was ordered to."

Hermione didn't appear to react. "Were you threatened?"

"That's not the point," he insisted.

"Was it not them or you?" she asked.

He shook his head. "You don't understand."

"Theo," she said, scooting further toward him on the bed and reaching out to take his hands in hers. He looked down at her fingers, noticing that the nails were chewed down to the bed, a nervous habit, something she did when stressed. He wanted to know what stressed her. Likely the prospect of marrying a Death Eater. "We were all terrified children no matter what side we were on. We fought for our lives. The war is over and has been for years," she said. "Eat your soup before it gets cold."

She let go of his hands and he felt foolish for nearly pouting at the loss. When she placed the silver tray in his lap, he stared down into the bowl. "I apologise if I throw it up in twenty minutes," he said.

She smiled at him. "Pixy said that she makes you your favourites. Steak and kidney pie, bangers and mash, and roast pork. Too heavy. Too rich. You're not able to eat because you're mixing your potions and then putting the wrong foods on top of them. Eat the soup, you'll feel better and the painkillers I gave you might actually do something to ease the aches. It did for me when I was recovering. Potions wouldn't do a single thing, but Muggle pills helped some."

His pride refused to let him tell her that somehow that pain had already lessened a touch. He glanced down at the soup hesitantly.

"Do you need me to feed you?" she asked him incredulously.

Theo smirked. "No, but I wouldn't object to a sponge bath if you insist on playing mediwitch," he said without thinking and was pleased when she laughed instead of slapping him. It would be terribly unkind of her to smack a dying man, but he wouldn't put it past Hermione Granger if she really wanted to.

He took a bite of the soup and forced himself not to moan again like a prat. Of course she was good at cooking. He couldn't help but wonder if there was anything — aside from flying — that she wasn't amazing at. A part of him warred with himself in hoping that she wasn't very sexually experienced just so that he'd be able to teach her a few things. Then again, she was likely a natural at that as well.

"I'm going to go and let the elves know they can go back to the kitchen," she said and stood up. "I feel terrible for making them go and clean the floors, but they hover," she said with an irritable tone. "When you're feeling better, I think we should talk about what we need to do next," she told him and he couldn't help but wonder if she'd already written down a to-do list. "We'll need to make a public appearance, of course, tackle whatever needs to be done at Gringotts, and . . ." she hesitated. "My umm . . . family wants to meet you. My parents, of course, and then there's a dinner held at the Burrow this Sunday. If you want."

Theo took a breath in between bites, absorbing her words. He didn't reply but smiled up at her and watched as she turned and left the room, leaving the door slightly cracked.

Dinner with the future in-laws and Weasleys.

_Fuck_.

She _really _wasn't going to let him die.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are **not **owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Posting this chapter tonight instead of tomorrow morning, that way we all go to bed with Theo dreams. Heads up, I can now be found on twitter ( shayalonnie) and tumblr (shayalonnie . tumblr . com) Feel free to follow, tweet, or Ask Me Questions there.

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**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Thirteen

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**March 9th, 2004**

Theo descended the stairs twenty minutes later, making his way to the large dining room to find Hermione sitting at the end of the table with several parchments set out in front of her, nibbling the end of a quill. She turned at the sound of his entrance and smiled up at him, noting that there was a bit more colour to his cheeks after eating. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Better," he admitted. "Thank you."

She smiled brightly at his words and then stole a moment to take in the rest of his appearance as he moved to join her at the table. A tight black t-shirt covered his chest and looked slightly wrinkled from sleeping in it. His feet were bare which she found strangely endearing considering the man had enough money to buy five-hundred Galleon house slippers if he wanted to. The drawstrings of his pyjama bottoms were distracting as they swung when he walked, pulling her gaze to the blue checkered fabric. Theo cleared his throat and she looked up, wide-eyed, and blushed bright red after being caught gawking at his . . .

Theo smirked and then threw her a bone. "You look organised," he said, gesturing to the table and her lists as he took a seat beside her. "What's first on the agenda?"

Hermione silently thanked him for not dwelling as most of the men she knew would likely do, save perhaps Harry, who would have been as mortified as her. "Gringotts," she told him. "If we're attempting to show that this engagement isn't out of nowhere, then the first time we appear together in public I should be wearing a ring," she said with an annoyed tone. "I've decided to agree to the issue because I know how important some of your traditions are. Malfoy wouldn't shut up about it."

"Do you have a preference for style?" Theo asked. "You don't wear much jewelry," he noted aloud.

She shook her head. "Please, nothing . . . too much." She winced at the thought. "I already feel terrible for —"

"I told you before Hermione, I don't do things by half-measures. I'll agree to adjust the story for the press and others outside of our small circle of friends, but if we're getting married, if you continue to agree to this, I'm all in," he told her, his tone one of absolute seriousness. "You'll wear a ring because you'll be my . . . my wife, and not because it's some accessory for a costume."

Hermione swallowed nervously. "I . . . how are you so at ease with this?" she asked him. "Your friends showed up at your door, thrust me in your face and practically forced your hand at signing a marriage contract with a woman you barely know."

Theo raised a brow. "Did you see Draco holding the quill in my hand?" he asked. "I signed of my own accord, thank you. My only objections were in regards to _your _decisions. I wanted to make certain that you were not coerced into this arrangement. I don't handle . . . pity . . . very well and frankly I'd much rather let myself die than spend a lifetime in a marriage with a woman who . . ." he sighed and rubbed his hands down his face. "A woman who regretted my very existence because a curse and busybody Slytherins ruined her life. Please believe me when I say that it's not the choice of witch I am opposed to."

She stared at him, listening with rapt attention and giving him her full focus. "I don't pity you, Theo," she said. "I . . . I'm angry on your behalf. Besides," she said, and smiled in an attempt to cut the tension in the room, "you've very likely saved me from years of being set up on blind dates arranged by Pansy and Ginny."

Theo smirked. "In exchange for a blind marriage arranged by Draco."

Hermione laughed. "And Luna," she said. "I trust her judgment more than the other witches whose only requirement for a potential suitor for me is how his arse looks in Muggle jeans."

"_I_ own Muggle jeans," Theo said with a teasing smirk.

Hermione tried to focus so her cheeks didn't flush again. "You're distracting," she declared. "So, Gringotts and then a public appearance, something simple and not forced. A trip to Flourish and Blotts maybe. There's a new edition of _Potion Opuscule_ that I've been wanting."

"That will work," Theo said and nodded. "I need to pick up a few things as well. When I was traveling around Greece, I lost my favourite copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_."

Hermione, hearing the book title, shot her head up and gaped openly at him, a disgusted expression on her face. "_Defensive Magical _—" she stopped when she caught him grinning at her. "Oh . . ." she shook her head, "you, Theodore Nott, are trouble."

"And you, Hermione Granger," he said with a smirk, "are very easy to rile up."

She shrugged looking down at her lists. "Careful," she said, "Rile me up too much and I might just find another husband to save through marriage." She tested the waters, hoping that she wasn't pushing too much considering Theo had more than once a day insisted that she had the option of backing out of the arrangement. She chanced a glance at him and caught his heated stare.

"What on earth gives you the impression that I'll let you get away from me now?" he asked her, reaching across the table to touch her fingertips with his own.

She hesitantly smiled and let him lace their fingers together, forcing herself to slowly breathe as she held his gaze, refusing to blink first on the off chance that this was some sort of Slytherin challenge. "We umm . . ." she said, breaking the momentary silence. "Should get used to this," she said, gesturing with her free hand to their intertwined fingers. "Physical affection and umm . . . because people will ask questions."

"I did briefly wonder if you would ask to have an experiment of some sort," he said. "Something to test to see if we're compatible. Chemistry and such."

Hermione let out a nervous laugh that echoed in the room. "I umm . . . I don't know about you, but . . . I think I'm good on that front."

He grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that." His thumb brushed over a knuckle and stroked up and down her index finger. He focused his gaze on her arms where tiny bumps raised along the skin showing him the results of his very subtle efforts. "Just in case," he whispered and moved his chair closer to her until they were only inches apart. With his left hand still tangled in hers, Theo used the free fingers of his right hand to touch lightly, just below her chin, and tilt her head easily toward him.

She let out a short quick puff of air and her eyes widened as he moved closer to her, allowing only the smallest of spaces between them as his nose brushed lightly against her jaw and then cheek. She sucked in a sharp breath when she felt soft lips press to the very corner edge of her mouth and a shocking warmth spread down her neck and across her chest.

"That," he said, his mouth hovering still just next to hers, "was _not _our first kiss."

"No?" she managed to squeak.

Theo smiled and she felt the movement on her skin. She fought to stay in control of her emotions and reactions, but memories of a wine glass pressed to his mouth from the night before followed by the way she had watched him enthusiastically lick the dessert off of their shared fork came to the forefront of her mind and gods . . . he was so close and smelled so . . . her body finally caved and she visibly shivered, admitting defeat against this formidable opponent.

"No," he said, pressing his lips firmly to her cheek before pulling away entirely. "Our first kiss will not be had while listing out ways we can fool the public to believe that our relationship is real."

Hermione swallowed. "Out of . . . curiosity," she said, trying to mentally will her body temperature lower, "when . . . when will we have umm . . ." she muttered, unable to ask for something as silly as the timing of their first kiss. They were getting married for Godric's sake! She was going to have to consummate the damn thing just to keep him alive!

"I will kiss you," he said as casually as he'd done when ordering wine the night before, "when it's real."

oOoOoOo

After making plans for the rest of the day, Hermione and Theo parted to get ready. She Floo'd back to her flat to find that, in her absence, Pixy had cleaned the entire place from top to bottom much to Hermione's irritation. She forced the thoughts of the elf — and the other eight back at Nott Manor — from her thoughts and readied herself for the day.

She made her way through the Leaky Cauldron at the specified time, hands shoved in the pockets of her robes so that no one would see the naked finger on her left hand; not that they'd be looking. She entered Diagon Alley in search of Theo and smiled when she saw him walking down the steps from Gringotts, glamours in place to disguise his pallor. As planned, they smiled brightly at one another and embraced upon meeting, Theo practically enveloped her in his finely tailored robes and she felt him subtly slip the chosen engagement ring on her finger. They'd practiced the move with a transfigured piece of string back at Nott Manor, and Hermione couldn't tell if it was just her or the both of them that kept insisting on practicing repeatedly, using the excuse that it needed to be perfect just so that they could embrace again.

With the ring on her finger, Hermione fell into Theo's warm hug, breathing in his scent that was subtle but distinctively him. She felt him place a kiss to her temple before whispering, "Don't freak out."

"What?" she replied, her voice panicked. "Is there someone —"

"No," he calmly told her. "I know I promised you something a little more reserved, but this was the least gaudy piece I could find in the vaults. So when you look at your ring, try to remember that you're supposed to have seen it before."

They pulled away and Theo took her hand in his and in a subtle yet loud enough voice that could be overheard by nosy spectators said, "I still can't get enough of seeing you wear this," and smiled brightly down at her with a look on his face as if she hung the very moon in the sky.

Hermione, lost in his grin, almost forgot to look down at the ring. "I know," she said. "I'm honestly just happy that you . . . holy fucking mother of Circe!" she shouted when her widened gaze finally fell on her left hand. People turned to stare almost instantly and Hermione felt Theo pull her into another embrace to try and cover up her mistake. Hand tucked between them, she couldn't help but gawk at the ring on her finger. A massive pale pink stone — moissanite she guessed, considering the way it sparkled in the light — was enveloped by a bright halo of diamonds on a silver band.

"How on earth did three Gryffindors manage to evade the Dark Lord for an entire year on the run?" he asked her quietly, chuckling against the skin of her ear.

"Sorry," she managed to whisper as her face turned red. "I just . . . this was seriously the least . . . it's not exactly gaudy. It's gorgeous, but . . . I don't think all the Galleons in my Gringotts vault could cover the price of this one ring," she admitted nervously.

"Technically . . ." Theo said as he pulled away, slipping something into her palm. She looked down and noticed a key. "You have more Galleons in your Gringotts vaults — yes, plural — than you realised. Everything's all set," he told her. "You are officially my beneficiary and keyed into the Nott fortune."

Hermione winced. "I still don't know how I feel about that."

"Feel annoyed, irritated, offended even . . . it won't matter." He shrugged. "It now belongs to the both of us."

Not wanting to appear ungrateful, Hermione nodded and then hugged him again, sighing when he wrapped an arm around her waist. He placed a kiss to the top of her head and she smiled at the feel, but her body stiffened when she heard the distinct click of a camera. "No going back now," she whispered.

"Come on," he said and reached for her hand, tugging her toward the bookshop.

Once inside Flourish and Blotts, Hermione realised quickly that Theo was in full Slytherin mode. She'd expected over the top gestures to show how desperately in love they were supposed to be. She'd expected him to kiss her hand in front of groups of strangers, loudly call her affectionate pet names that she was certain would make her cringe, and maybe even throw around words like "wedding", "bride", or "wife". He did none of those things.

The moment they stepped into the bookshop, Theo separated from her with casual grace and directed himself toward the books on curses and counter-curses, which seemed appropriate given his career. He looked perfectly at ease standing there, flipping through the pages of a book, and suddenly she realised that, even inside one of her happiest locations, _she _was the one who felt out of place.

Theo, likely picking up on her nerves, walked toward her, three books already in hand and gestured to a nearby stand. "Hey, love," he called to her, using the term with ease as though it had been spoken a thousand times between them. "They've got that new edition of _Potion Opuscule_ that you've been talking about for months."

_Sneaky snake_, Hermione thought. "Wonderful," she said, smiling brightly. "Now you'll have to think of something else to get me for my birthday," she teased.

Theo smirked. "I've got six months until then, I'm sure I'll think of something."

She forced herself not to react to the fact that he apparently had known her birthday, snatched up the book she'd wanted and they made their way to the counter.

"My treat," Hermione said, stacking their purchases together. She expected him to fight. Draco, she knew, would fight. He fought her on occasion for trying to pick up coffee or lunch. Blaise would fight. She'd seen him purposely buy Ginny the most outrageous things only to have her throw coins at his face in the middle of Diagon Alley. Theo merely smiled and said nothing.

As the manager rang up their purchases, Hermione noticed the older witch glance down when Theo leaned in from behind Hermione and threaded the fingers of his left hand through hers. The young witch was smiling at the movement, caught off guard when she heard the manager gasp. She looked up to see the woman staring at the place where Hermione and Theo's hands joined and realised what had happened.

Theo's robes had been bunched up around his elbow revealing his Dark Mark which sat gently against the skin of her arm, bearing the word _Mudblood_ in scar tissue. Nothing in the world could draw more attention than that. She felt Theo tense behind her but before he had a chance to move away, she gripped down on his fingers, refusing to part with him. She turned her gaze up to the witch in front of her and smiled sweetly. "Is everything all right, ma'am?"

The woman stared at her in shock and confusion and then swallowed. "I don't know, dear," she said softly. "Are _you _all right?"

Hermione pretended to be puzzled by her question. "Quite," she replied. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" she asked the woman and then turned back to look up at Theo. "Should we skip lunch at the Leaky and just go home? Maybe have a meal outside on the balcony?"

Theo blinked at her with a grateful gaze and then smiled and kissed her forehead. "Anything you like, love."

"Anything I like," Hermione repeated his words with a smirk as she tried to force herself not to remember Theo in low hanging blue-checkered pyjamas with drawstrings that swung in a teasing way, almost as though they were begging to be tugged on. She was starting to wonder if perhaps Draco had slipped her a Love Potion the other day. No, she shook off the thought. This had nothing to do with Draco and everything to do with Luna, who had given her fair warning that Theo was pleasant to look upon. The warning, Hermione noted, had not been loud enough.

"You're blushing," Theo whispered in her ear and Hermione's eyes snapped up to look at the manager behind the counter who was staring at her awkwardly and holding the bag of books out, shaking it a touch trying to get Hermione's attention.

"Sorry!" the young witch said and snatched the bag quickly, turned, and rushed out of the shop, Theo smugly grinning behind her.

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**A/N**: Hermione's ring and fancasting can be seen on my Tying the Nott Pinterest board (pinterest dot com / shayalonnie / tying-the-nott)


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: I'll be out of town and on untrusty WiFi and devices so I don't know how posting new chapters will go. I'll be gone from Thursday this week to Friday of next week but am trying to set it up so that posting chapters will be easy. Fingers crossed. Since I still have laundry and packing to do for my trip, I'm posting some chapters a bit early to give me time to get things done on days when I would normally be writing and editing. If I can get things done early, I'll post new chapters of _Tying the Nott_ and _Presque Toujours Pur_ tomorrow night or Thursday morning. Wish me luck!

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**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Fourteen

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**March 9th, 2004**

When they left the bookshop, they walked hand in hand through Diagon Alley as casually as possible, appearing as though they were trying to avoid attention rather that garner it. They went to Slug &amp; Jiggers to restock Theo's potion cabinet with ingredients for draughts that Hermione would brew herself to help him with the pains he was suffering from due to the curse. Then they stopped in at the Magical Menagerie for owl treats and food for Crookshanks.

"Oh!" she said with wide eyes. "I don't even think anyone thought to ask . . . do you like cats?"

Theo raised a brow. "You have a cat?"

"Half-Kneazle, actually," she said and nervously bit her lower lip.

He smirked. "I'm fine with cats," he told her. "My mum used to raise crups. Noisy buggers."

When they exited the Menagerie, bags in hand, Hermione gasped at the sight of two approaching heads of red hair. "Quick!" she hissed and grabbed Theo by the robes, yanking him to the side of the building where she ducked out of Fred and George's sight.

Only when she was sure they'd passed did she look up and realise that the space between buildings was very limited and Theo was pressed up against her body, nothing between them but the bag of books they'd purchased earlier. One of her hands was pressed up against the flat of his abdomen and even if she wanted to remove it, there wasn't enough room to gracefully do so.

Theo smirked at her. "I had you in my bed this morning and you proposition me in public?"

She laughed. "You're as bad as Blaise," she said and slowly moved herself out from between the building and Theo.

Despite the big display at Flourish and Blotts, Theo and Hermione did eventually end up at the Leaky for lunch where they asked for a secluded table in the back and she had thrown up a Muffliato to keep out eavesdroppers as they laid out the history of their past-fake-but-soon-to-not-be-fake relationship.

"It's important that I meet the Weasleys, isn't it?" he asked her.

She nodded. "They're family. They're loud and pushy and they're going to make it completely miserable for you," she said sadly, "but they're family and at least they mean well."

He nodded. "I'll go as long as I'm feeling up to it," he promised. "And your parents? Should I be worried?"

Out of habit, she went on the defence. "Because they're Muggles?"

Theo, slightly shocked by her tone, put his hands up. "Because they're your parents and I have to assume they're shocked to know that they're daughter is not only in a relationship with a man they've never heard of, but that she's getting married to him."

She frowned. "Sorry," she said, wincing. "I'm . . . a bit protective of them."

"Understandable," he said. "I mean no harm. They'll be my family too soon," he stated matter of factly, "and that's something I take very seriously. If I had any family left of my own to share with you, I'd expect the same thing."

Hermione noted his tone when he spoke about his own family and she didn't press the fact that she knew his father was perfectly alive, living out a lifelong sentence in Azkaban for war crimes. Theo was ashamed of his _own _Death Eater brand, she couldn't imagine how he felt about the man who practically forced him to kneel at Voldemort's feet to accept it.

"You should move in today," he said, breaking the awkward silence. "Or at least start," he offered. "I know you'll likely reject the idea, but I could send over the elves. They're really good at packing things. I was on my own after the war and needed help getting the house situated. They were really helpful."

Hermione shook her head. "No. Pixy already cleaned my flat," she said in a tone of irritation. "But I agree about getting things moved. It'll make it easier and give us a chance to get more comfortable around one another. I owled Daphne earlier to see if she could help and she mentioned she'd be free this afternoon. Oh!" she said as a thought occurred to her. "Back to the families issue. Mrs. Weasley is likely going to be very stern with you when she finds out we're living together. We can say we're in separate rooms, but everyone will just think we're lying."

"Do you _want _to be in separate rooms?" he asked curiously.

Hermione laughed. "How is this not awkward at all for you?" she asked.

Theo shrugged. "A pretty witch is moving in with me today and is currently wearing a family ring. I'm kind of taking the silver lining as it comes along and clinging like mad to it."

"Mad is right." She laughed. "I . . ."

"Relax, Hermione," he said with a smile. "I don't expect you to share my bedroom. Not until you want to. The binding ceremony though . . ." He paused to gauge her reaction to his words, noticing that she visibly stiffened. "I'd like us to become comfortable with one another. Physically. That way you're not a bundle of nerves on the wedding night."

Hermione's face flushed. "I . . ." she stammered and swallowed hard. "I'm not some . . . innocent virgin, Theo," she said coolly. "I . . . I won't be a bundle of . . . are you doing this on purpose?"

"Testing the waters," he replied with a grin. "I meant what I said though. Now, if you'll forgive me for ignoring your need to talk about the details of our sex life," he said and chuckled when her face briefly turned red from a mix of embarrassment and anger, "we should figure out what to tell people about how we got together."

When her annoyance subsided, she agreed with him. "Draco introduced us," she said. "That's what I blurted out to my parents in a moment of panic when I basically decided that I was going to go through with this." She avoided looking at him when their drinks arrived, purposely distracting herself from anything that drew attention to his mouth. His earlier whispers of a future first kiss were still echoing in her ears.

"_Technically,_ Professor Vector introduced us," Theo said with a smile as he took a sip of his water — "Butterbeer will aggravate your stomach," she'd told him — "We were in the same class and she asked you to help some of the other students figure out the calculations."

Hermione furrowed her brows, clearly not remembering the incident. "And you're telling me that you — _you_, Theo — needed _my _help in Arithmancy?" she asked skeptically.

He smirked at her and waited curiously for her to take a sip of her drink. "Maybe I just wanted to get an up-close look at you," he said and grinned victoriously when she slightly choked, reaching for her napkin to cover her mouth and catch the dribble as it escaped her mouth and likely her nose if he'd timed it correctly.

Her eyes were wide and he stared at her in amusement, realising immediately that being open and truthful with the witch brought about interesting results that lies and false flattery might not have done. "Draco introduced us _officially _though," he conceded, sipping casually at his water, "which technically is the truth."

Once she'd completely wiped up the mess she'd made, Hermione cleared her throat and blinked rapidly. "You . . . fine . . . umm . . . why would Draco introduce us? We need a different reason other than you're dying and needing to get married."

He thought about waiting for her to take another drink but the look in her eye said that she'd caught onto his game as she reached forward, pushing her glass several inches away from her to make a point. Theo laughed. "Draco introduced us because I asked him to. He knew that I fancied you back in Hogwarts but because of all the blood purity bullshite we had to put up with I could never make a proper move. Now that the war's been over and we're both single and he had decent access to your person, I figured it was the right time."

Hermione smiled. "We'll have to tell Draco and possibly Blaise the plan so they can confirm in case anyone asks them about Hogwarts," she said.

Theo smiled at her and wondered how many Slytherins had lied to her in the past to make her assume that he'd be anything but completely honest with her here and now. _No matter_, he thought. _She'll figure it out sooner or later_. "We dated in secret, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves because of the media. Only our closest friends knew, of course. Then I proposed just before New Years because I knew I wouldn't be around for the holiday. That will cover my trip to Greece and the fact that our engagement isn't a last minute thing. It's been on for months, but we didn't want to make the formal announcement until I'd gotten back."

Hermione smiled in thanks when the waitress arrived to place their meals down in front of them. Hermione, had taken the liberty of ordering for him, something bland and likely flavourless but at least more nutritional than anything that would later make him sick. "And how, may I ask, did you propose to me?" she asked teasingly.

"Oh, it's a romantic tale," he said with a grin. "I found you in the middle of Diagon Alley, wrapped you in my arms, slipped a ring on your finger and said, 'Don't freak out,'," he smirked at her, his eyes sparkling when he saw her cheeks flush. "And then you saw the ring and started screaming obscenities."

"Gods, that was embarrassing," Hermione said, her head bowed over her plate, hands shielding her face as she quietly laughed. "Can we leave out the part where I screamed at you and replace it with me just accepting your proposal?"

Theo shrugged. "Depends. You haven't actually said 'yes' yet."

Hermione smiled up at him. "I don't think I've actually been _asked _yet."

He raised a curious brow. "Draco wasn't romantic on my behalf? What a prat."

"He tried to call in a fake life debt."

Theo laughed. "Would you like a grand gesture or quiet romance?" he asked, reaching across the table for her ring clad hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles and grinning when she smiled in response and held up two fingers indicating the quieter of the two choices. He stood up, thought for a moment about how to create a retroactive proposal to tell their friends and her family about. Something romantic and memorable. Getting up and scooting in beside her on her side of the table, he gently grasped her hand and brought it to his lips.

"Hermione," he addressed her. "I know we haven't been dating very long, but there is something very important I need to ask you."

She grinned at him, amused by the effort he was putting into the performance, plus, she wasn't going to say no to a little more hand kissing. "Well," Hermione said, batting her eyelashes jokingly. "I have a feeling that I know what you're going to ask, Theo, but I must insist we've not been together long enough for any serious commitment. I'm an independent witch with a good head on my shoulders, and you'll have to quite possibly sweep me off my feet if you expect me to throw caution to the wind, Gryffindor or not."

He smirked at her and Hermione thought about spending the rest of her life staring at that smirk every day. _This was supposed to be difficult_, she thought. Marrying someone she didn't know very well. A Slytherin. A former Death Eater. Someone who . . . who needed her. But he made her smile and strangely feel like she was the focus of his entire world when they were together. And in _her _world that often revolved around the fact that she was surrounded by Weasleys and Harry Potter, being the focus of someone else was a delightful new feeling. She tried her very best not to get caught up in it.

"That lovely head on your shoulders is what drew me to you in the first place," he said and reached out to touch a curl of her hair. "This hair," he smirked, "it's positively filled with magic. Do you notice," he said, remembering his thoughts from earlier, "that there's at least six different shades and they change in the sunlight? So very unique. Unique and magical in a world where everything is supposed to be unique and magical, but isn't."

Her teasing smile fell when he reached up and touched her bottom lip with his thumb. "I'm going to kiss these lips one day very soon," he whispered and her breath caught somewhere in her chest. "What was I saying?" he asked. "Oh, yes, I have a question for you."

Hermione slowly nodded, watching with interest as his eyes flickered as though he were trying to remember something important. Then he ran a hand through his dark brown hair and she watched as the layers fluttered back against one another as soft as falling feathers. "Pay attention, love," Theo said. "This is very important."

She blushed a little and then smiled, focusing her attention on him.

"'_I don't love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz, or arrow of carnations that propagate fire'_," he began and Hermione's mouth opened as she recognised the words.

Of course he would know Muggle poetry. He was a Slytherin Curse-Breaker who was at the top of their class — next, of course, to her — who was brilliant, sweet and strangely humble for a man surrounded by boastful friends. He had accepted death when his Hogwarts House taught him self-preservation. He quietly opposed blood-supremacy on the side of a war that insisted upon it. He was kind to elves, talented at picking out flowers, and his taste in wine was almost as good as his taste in desserts. Of course he would know Muggle poetry.

"'_I love you as one loves certain obscure things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul'_," he whispered, smiling as he laced their fingers together, but not before removing the pale pink moissanite ring from her finger. "_'I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom but carries the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself, and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose from the earth lives dimly in my body.'_"

_Body_, Hermione thought as her head began to get a little foggy.

"'_I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you simply without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you.'_" He brought her fingers up to his lips and kissed the tips of them each individually before staring into her eyes and slipping the ring back onto her finger.

Unlacing their fingers, he placed her hand over his heart so she could feel it beating hard against her palm and then leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against hers. "_'So intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.'_"

Hermione almost choked on an exhale, breathing in quickly after and tasting his breath he was so close. Her eyes closed and she could feel his lips ghosting over hers as he quietly said, "Marry me."

"Oh, yes," she breathed and he once again placed his lips against the corner edge of her mouth before whispering in her ear. "That wasn't our first real kiss either. When I kiss you for real, it will not be in the shadows of a pub where no one can see, hiding like it's something I'm ashamed of."

She opened her eyes and found him still so very close, gazing at her. "No?" she asked.

Theo smiled. "No. The back of a pub in the shadows where no one can see is where I will do many _other _delightful things," he said quietly but firmly, his tone indicating the inevitability of his words. "But I'll do all of that," he paused to grin, "and more," he added, "_after_ I've kissed you."

* * *

**A/N**: I'm a big fan of Pablo Neruda (used a few in The Debt of Time) and the one Theo says to Hermione is one of my favourites from 100 Love Sonnets.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: EXTRA CHAPTER DAY! I hope you all have a great week while I'm gone. Fingers crossed that WiFi allows me to update. I won't be able to edit docs in order to answer questions, but if you keep in touch with me on Twitter and tumblr, I'll likely be able to answer any through those channels! Also, there were a few people asking me what kind of length we're looking at for this story and I have to say, I have no idea. There's no actual end planned right now. Tying the Nott is my place where I dump my excess fluff, smut, and drama that I need to write but doesn't fit into other fics. It's cathartic. Theo is cathartic LOL. I don't see it being Debt of Time long, but there are certainly not any plans to end it soon.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Fifteen

* * *

**March 9th, 2004**

Hermione was at her flat, two glasses of wine and a cold shower in by the time Daphne arrived to help her pack. Her morning with Theo had been slightly worrisome, but the early afternoon had been nothing but a lovely surprise. He was all sweetness and words and hovering lips and lingering touches. By the time they'd parted and Hermione had returned to home, she needed a shower at best, a change of knickers at most.

"Mother of Merlin, that ring is gorgeous!" Daphne said when she grabbed Hermione's hand.

Hermione had opened her arms for a hug of greeting but was instead cut off by the blond, witch-shaped niffler. While Daphne was busy ogling the engagement ring on Hermione's hand, the curly-haired witch snatched her friend's wrist to compare rings. "Oh thank goodness, I was starting to worry that it was bigger than yours," she said in genuine relief. "Theo said this was the smallest piece in his family vaults."

"That's likely true. All of the old families weren't exactly simple with their style and taste in heirlooms. I mean, you've seen Luna's wedding ring," Daphne said, shaking her head. Hermione agreed with her. Draco really didn't know how to be subtle in the slightest. "Ridiculous. Yours is beautiful though. I think it looks wonderful on you."

"Thanks," Hermione said, looking at the soft pink stone with affection. She'd occasionally thought about getting married over the years, but had never expected a ring this extravagant, or the heated proposal that came with it. "I might have screamed at him in the middle of Diagon Alley over it."

"Screamed as in yelled?"

"Granted it was in shock," Hermione admitted. "I wasn't expecting _this_," she said, throwing her left hand around to show Daphne how the moissanite stone glittered in the sunlight that was creeping through the windows. "We might have attracted some attention."

Daphne laughed. "Oh, I would have killed to have been there," she said and then followed Hermione down the hallway to the study, but not before grabbing a clearly open bottle of wine that was perched on the kitchen counter and taking it with her. "So, your boss gave you the month off?"

Hermione scoffed. "And then some."

"That was nice of him."

"He's a prat."

"Workaholic," Daphne teased. "You need a new hobby. Like planning a wedding."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she stepped into the study and, with a flick of her wand, transfigured the cheap cardboard boxes she'd picked up into a sturdy plastic container. "I'd rather pack up books right now, thanks," she said and then set to work. After silently packing for several minutes, Hermione stood up and sighed. "Hey, Daph? Umm . . . what was your first kiss with Harry like?"

Daphne, caught drinking straight from the bottle, nearly choked on her mouthful. "Oh my gods," she said after swallowing, "did Theo kiss you?!" she asked excitedly.

Hermione's mouth fell open. "What? No!" she insisted and then paused as she remembered his lips pressed to the corner of her mouth at the Manor. "No." His lips pressed to the corner of her mouth at the Leaky Cauldron and ghosting over hers as he proposed marriage. "No . . . well, not yet."

"Yet?" The blonde raised a brow. "Did he . . . what happened? Tell me everything."

Hermione sighed and sat down, normally not one for gossip, but she had to get her thoughts out of her head and she knew that Harry and Ron would likely beg her to stop talking, Ginny would likely encourage her to drop everything she was doing and show up at Nott Manor in a racy negligee, Luna needed Draco to translate for her and Hermione wasn't going to talk to the ferret about Theo for all the Galleons in the world. Daphne was her best bet at a normal conversation. "He's . . . gods, I don't even know how to describe it. Intense. Romantic. Sweet."

Daphne grinned. "Sexy."

"Should I be offended that you think my future husband is sexy?"

The blonde chuckled. "Possessive already?"

Hermione scoffed. "No, of course not," she said and then briefly remembered that Daphne had been willing to marry Theo to save his life. It could have been Daphne watching Theo lick Tiramisu off of a shared dessert fork at the Firehouse last night. She felt a strange bubble of anger build inside her chest and she admitted, "Maybe a little. Look at him for crying out loud," she said emphatically. "How were Draco and Blaise not able to find a witch willing to marry him before now? He's so close to perfect, it's starting to make me worry about the other shoe dropping."

"What?"

"Other shoe dropping. It's a Muggle phrase that means —"

"No, not that," Daphne said, shaking her head. "The Draco and Blaise thing. Hermione, Pansy and I were all part of the whole save-Theo plan. We all got together just after January when Theo stopped replying to our owls and we realised that he wasn't going to do anything to save himself. The backup was, of course, that I would step in if needed because . . ." she stopped mid-sentence and let out a shaky breath. "Hermione I couldn't let him die."

Hermione frowned. "I know, Daph, I don't judge you," she said, reaching out and taking her friend's hand in a comforting gesture. "I know you love Harry. Honestly, if the same situation happened years ago I would have done the same thing for either Harry or Ron." She chuckled. "We would have been miserable for the rest of our lives, but still."

"Hermione, what do you remember about Theo from school?"

She shook her head. "Not much. I know he was in a lot of my classes. I remember he could see the thestrals, and he was in Advanced Potions. He said I helped him once in Arithmancy."

Daphne raised both eyebrows. "He didn't say _anything _else?"

"No," Hermione replied, starting to feel slightly panicked. "Why?"

"Hermione, Theo's . . . he was enamored with you when we were at Hogwarts."

She stared at her friend and wondered if perhaps the Slytherin definition of the "enamored" differed from the rest of the world. "What?"

Daphne frowned slightly. "He couldn't say anything really, not with Draco being a giant prat and Pansy . . . well," she rolled her eyes, "you know how she was . . . is. I never really cared, of course, and Theo and I had always been close so he told me. He said he thought you were brilliant and beautiful," she said with a smile, watching as Hermione's mouth fell open in shock. "Draco eventually found out and teased him relentlessly for it. They got into a _big _fight once over it and they both ended up in the Hospital Wing. Draco eased up on teasing you and Theo never said another word about it. It wasn't until recently that he even brought it up again. I think it was when you got in that duel over that house-elf thing and Draco had to take you to St. Mungo's," she said with a smile. "Theo inquired about you in one of his letters. Wanted to know if you were okay."

Hermione took a moment to try and process the words. She didn't understand. She'd barely known he existed, something she now felt incredibly guilty about. How had she missed something like this? "He didn't know me. Why would he . . ."

"I didn't say he was _in love _with you," Daphne replied. "But he respected what he _did _know of you. And when we all became friends and you were kind of grafted into our lives, I mean . . . we talked of course."

"Why didn't anyone . . . why wait until . . . until this?" Hermione asked. She wondered if everything would have been different. Had Draco or Daphne said something years ago, would she and Theo have fallen together naturally with as much ease as they seemed to be doing right now? Would they have gotten married? Would Theo have ended up like Draco? Worried that the curse would hit him but in the end, the anniversary of his Marking would go by with no effect?

"Because he was always gone for work and then this curse happened," Daphne said, shrugging. "When we got together we realised that Theo wasn't going to save himself unless . . . unless it was you. Hermione, I don't know what Draco told you, but you were the _only _witch we even thought of. I really think the two of you will be good together." She smiled brightly. "I think he'll learn to love you very quickly."

Hermione felt her heart racing. "It's too fast," she said. _Wasn't it too fast?_

Daphne smirked. "They don't call it _crawling _in love," she said with a laugh. "So, you said he was intense. What does that mean?" she asked, attempting to distract Hermione from the emotional avalanche she seemed to be experiencing at the revelation of Theo's long-time crush.

"He proposed to me," Hermione whispered. "Officially. And . . ." she remembered the sonnet and the way he spoke it. How his eyes darkened and sparkled at the same time and she could smell the citrus on his breath from the lemon that had been in his water as he breathed softly against her mouth, the silent promise of a kiss to come. "Has it always been that hot inside the Leaky Cauldron?" she asked and then laughed before going into detail about Theo's proposal.

When Hermione finished her story, Daphne burst into giggles. "Oh, he's good. That's amazing. You need to Pensieve that memory and save it forever. Or share it with others."

The witches set to work again, filling boxes with books and photo albums, some of Hermione's old files from work that she'd taken home to research. They emptied the bathroom of all of her personal items, her toiletries and the few potions she kept in the cabinet. Daphne insisted on clearing the closet on her own, telling Hermione that she would label the boxes and if the curly-haired witch hadn't worn anything in the ones labeled "Donate" in the next six months, then she had to get rid of whatever was inside. Hermione, not wanting to argue, fled to her kitchen to pack up everything with a wave of her wand. Magic really was amazing.

When she rejoined Daphne in the bedroom to go through her dressers, she started folding up her knickers and bras by hand when she felt anxiety begin to grow inside of her. "I'm nervous," she admitted aloud. "He makes me nervous. I mean, I'm not completely inexperienced but . . . it's been a while."

Daphne looked up from her place on the floor where she was attempting to rescue a boot that was stuck beneath Hermione's bed. "Muggles right?" she asked. "There was that guy with the blond hair and glasses."

Hermione nodded remembering Alan, whom she'd met in passing at the Thai restaurant she and Ginny frequented. They'd gone out on three dates and Hermione, desperate for some sort of relief, had caved on the second date. "Almost a year ago," she said. "And that was just some fun to let off steam. Before him, it was another Muggle six months before that and he didn't even last three weeks. Before that it was Terry and Ron before him."

"You and Terry lasted a while though," Daphne pointed out. "Most of that last year at Hogwarts, right?"

Hermione sighed loudly. "It wasn't very good."

Daphne finally grabbed the boot and sat up, holding it in the air much like Harry would with a freshly caught Snitch. "Wait," she said and then turned to stare at Hermione, "isn't Terry the one who . . .?"

Hermione nodded. "He and Neville are very happy together," she said and Daphne grinned. "They have a cottage in the Cotswolds. Big garden. Neville helps grow and distribute Aconite for the Wolfsbane Potion. They grow regular stuff too. Terry sends me baskets of peppers and cucumbers every spring."

"Cucumbers?" Daphne giggled. "How big —"

Hermione smirked. "It's not the size of the cucumber, Daphne, it's —"

"How you pickle it?"

They burst into laughter.

A large shared glass of wine was consumed from a mason jar because Hermione had already packed away and shrunk the boxes from the kitchen, and the two witches sat on the floor of the now empty bedroom passing the jar. "I wouldn't worry about you and Theo," Daphne said. "You clearly have chemistry and well . . . you're getting married anyway. Might as well enjoy it, right? Is it really rushing into things when you're wedding is next month? Would you rather relax and develop a relationship with him naturally, or hold back and then have to face it awkwardly when you have to consummate to seal the binding?"

Hermione sighed. "Good point."

oOoOoOo

After parting at the Leaky Cauldron, Theo returned home to the Manor, grabbed his broom and went flying for the first time in months. Stress of the curse, not to mention the physical sickness that came with it, prevented him from taking to the air. After an afternoon without getting sick and a few extra Muggle painkillers from Hermione, Theo was feeling the best he'd felt in months. He couldn't imagine how great he would feel once they'd actually completed the binding, rendering the curse null and void.

_The binding._

_Hermione._

_Gods, she smelled so good._

He'd thought about it for years at Hogwarts, staring at the variety of colours in her hair and watching as she bit her lip in concentration when working on a particularly difficult translation in Ancient Runes. He'd watch those lips, desperate to kiss them. There had been girls in the middle of his "strange Muggle-born phase" as Draco had referred to it. No matter how lovely he thought Hermione had been, she was a Muggle-born and a Gryffindor and likely wouldn't have even given him the time of day regardless of the House loyalties and war, merely because he was best friends with Malfoy. And a growing teenage boy could only wank so much in the showers before the girls Blaise would sneak into the dorm rooms began looking more and more appealing.

"Short trysts." That's what Blaise told him. "You don't want to end up like Draco with Pansy walking you around by the end of your cock, do you?" And no, Theo did not want that!

So the occasional Ravenclaw would catch his attention when her Hufflepuff friend took an interest in Blaise and the pair would go back to the common room, slip past the prefects — Draco and Pansy — who were usually stuffed behind the curtains of the blonde's four poster anyways, and then walk the girls out minutes — and eventually hours — later before curfew went into effect.

His post-Hogwarts romantic life had been a series of one night stands to keep the aches of loneliness away. Nothing picked up off of Knockturn Alley, of course, but the occasional witch he'd meet at the Leaky would go home with him for a night in the understanding that it was just the one night. When he went to Egypt things got easier. There was a language barrier that was easily fixed with firewhisky or an Egyptian wine called Abarka that Theo took a special preference to when a fellow Curse-Breaker had taken him and a bottle home with her and the pair hadn't emerged for two weeks. Returns to Britain were filled with visits to his friends, which often included Pansy's kid, and the idea of drunken one night stands — where the prospect of forgetting a Contraceptive Charm was high — all but ended.

Then the curse hit.

But gods . . . Hermione. Hermione was as close to perfection as a witch could get in his eyes. All hair and curves and softness in places that he'd occasionally brush his fingertips against when they were walking down Diagon Alley side by side. She'd grabbed his robes and pulled him behind the Magical Menagerie and he'd been forced to think of terrible things to avoid an embarrassing situation. When they'd sat down at the Leaky for lunch and she'd placed a black napkin in her lap, it reminded Theo of his bedsheets and fantasies of her sprawled on them, naked, her hair spread out around her in a halo. She would buck and writhe beneath him as he feasted upon her. He'd never been so happy to see a glass of ice water when the waitress had arrived with the drinks.

Thoughts of Hermione's breath catching as he whispered words of love and devotion to her came to his mind as the cold wind beat against him while he flew his broom higher and higher through the field behind the Manor, his skin still hot from the thought of his lips just hovering above hers. He'd wanted her so much that it was building an ache deep inside of him, but he knew she wasn't ready. Hell, he'd only been ready himself because somehow she'd miraculously cured him of his nausea and pain that day and his sex drive was returning with gratitude for the little witch.

When the cold air was no longer helping after what felt like hours of flying, Theo returned to the Manor, put him broom away and noted that there were boxes stacked in various rooms throughout the house. _Hermione and Daphne must be moving everything over_, he thought. Knowing that it was only polite to assist in the move, Theo headed for the shower, desperate to wash the stink off of him from flying before seeing Hermione again. She'd already witnessed him nearly vomit that morning, she didn't need to smell him like this in the evening.

He stepped beneath the warm water and turned the temperature down a touch to try and ease the aches that Hermione's Muggle pills hadn't helped in the slightest. When the cold water didn't help either, Theo decided to take care of the problem himself. He certainly wasn't expecting his fiance of a whole two days to assist him with it tonight.

The soap rinsing down the front of his chest provided ample slickness as he ran his long fingers down the front of his cock, turning over and running his thumb against the tip before encircling it with his hand and gripping tight. He hissed at the contact. _Gods, it had been too long_. Weeks since he'd felt healthy enough to care, let alone have the ability to harden. But he was hard now. Aching. Throbbing. His hand smoothed along his erection at a relaxed pace, enjoying the moment while it lasted; closing his eyes and letting fantasies of Hermione fill his mind. Her supple body spread out on his black sheets. Standing there with him beneath the beating shower, skin slick with soap, bubbles dripping between her breasts, pooling in her navel. He'd never seen Hermione's bare stomach before, but he was already making plans of drinking champagne off of it.

"Ahh . . ." he moaned as he felt his body tightening; abs hard, thighs stiff and he increased his pace. He'd proposed marriage to the witch. Not some half-arsed contract that Draco had drawn up and guilted her into signing. Not some pity-filled plead. He'd whispered to her, nearly kissed her, wanted to devour her, and asked — no, he hadn't asked . . . he'd pleaded, insisted, demanded —_ "Marry me."_ That's what he'd said to her.

She said "yes". Actually said "yes". "Mmm . . ." Theo groaned as he felt the pressure building and building, a fire that had been stoked for far too long and desperately needed to burn out completely. Then he remembered: she hadn't just said "yes".

"_Oh, yes." _

Oh. Yes.

"Oh . . . fuck . . . yes!" Theo moaned as he came, pulsing in his hand and thinking of the way her lips softly parted when she'd accepted his proposal; accepted him; broken, dying, Death Eater. He quietly laughed in relief and smiled as he realised that, for the first time in months, he came without thinking, _I'm sure going to miss this when I'm dead_.

When he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his waist, he was shocked to see a witch in his bed. He looked around in a brief panic to find Daphne nowhere in sight. Hermione was sleeping, buried in a mass of black sheets wearing what looked to be flannel pyjama bottoms and an old, faded Harpies t-shirt. She was softly breathing and didn't move at the sound of the bathroom door closing behind him.

Curious and slightly concerned, Theo slipped out of the bedroom and closed the door softly behind him. "Pixy?" he called and smiled when the house-elf appeared in front of him.

"Master is looking so well," she said with a bright grin on her face, practically jumping off the balls of her feet. "Mistress is a good witch. Talented. She heals Master, nicely."

Theo couldn't stop himself from smirking. "Pixy, Hermione's in my bed."

Pixy nodded. "Mistress and Missy Harry Potter's Lady," she said, as she'd started addressing Daphne of late, "brought many boxes. Almost done theys said. Not needing elves help," she added and looked a bit put out by it. "Mistress says she's tired and goes to sleep."

"In my bed?" Theo asked.

"Mistress writes a note."

Theo, raising a brow, opened the door and walked back into the room, quietly stepping toward the bed where, sure enough, a note rested on his pillow. He picked it up and smirked at Hermione's now familiar cursive, the words on the parchment echoed back his own from earlier that day:

_Theo,_

_Testing the waters._

* * *

**A/N**: Little lemons.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: I'm currently on vacation and unable to edit so if there are any mistakes I'll have to fix them when I get home. Hope everyone is having an awesome week!

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Sixteen

* * *

**March 10th, 2004**

Sometime in the middle of the night, or early in the morning when the sky was still black and the stars brightly dotted the sky, Hermione awoke to the bed vibrating. She quickly opened her eyes and the unfamiliar surroundings had her reaching for her wand. Only after muttering a quick _Lumos _did she remember where she was. Nott Manor. Theo's bed. _Our bed. _She swallowed down her nerves and tried to school her face into an expression worthy of a Gryffindor when she turned to her right to find the source of the vibrations.

Deep in slumber, t-shirt damp with sweat and black sheets bundled around him, Theo shivered so badly that the mattress beneath them shook. Hermione frowned and leaned forward, pressing a hand to his forehead to feel him burning up. "Oh, gods," she whispered and then flicked her wand, quickly placing a Cooling Charm over his body to temporarily lower his rising body temperature.

Cursing herself for thinking that chicken soup and some adjusted potions would fix him, Hermione pulled herself from the bed and rushed to the other side of the mattress. "Theo," she whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders, trying to be cautious as she gently attempted to wake him. Caution was important. She'd learned that shortly after the war when sleeping beside Ron. She'd woken early at the Burrow and, terrified of being alone, slipped into the upstairs bedroom and crawled in next to her then boyfriend. The subtle movement paired with paranoia left over from battle caused the redhead to jump to attention, arms flailing, nearly hitting her in the jaw. Harry, a week later had been punched in the nose trying to wake a slumbering Ron when he'd slept in late and missed breakfast.

Hermione assumed the Death Eaters and war heroes had similar reactions and there was no way of knowing how Theo would wake. "Theo," she whispered again and sighed in relief when his eyes opened.

"Y-y-you're h-here . . ." he said, teeth chattering.

"Theo, I'm going to be right back, okay?" she promised and then quickly fled the room returning minutes later to find that he'd wrapped himself tighter in the wet sheets. "Theo, I'm going to levitate you, I need you to relax as much as possible and not move or else I'll have to put you in a Body Bind." At his weak nod, she waved her wand and levitated Theo's shivering body into the bathroom and toward the tub that she had filled with lukewarm water. "Looks like you're getting that sponge bath a lot sooner than I'd expected," she muttered as she lowered him, still fully dressed, into the water.

He stopped shivering almost instantly and she was shocked with how impacting her relief was. She knelt there beside the bathtub, cupping her left hand in the water and bringing it up to dribble against the parts of him left above the surface while her right hand soothingly stroked through his hair until his eyes closed and he leaned to the side, pressing his cheek into her knee.

_Son of a bitch_, she angrily thought as the memory of Tom Riddle came into her thoughts. To make herself feel better and stop the tears from welling in her eyes, she focused on the memory of the moment when Harry killed the bastard. His cold body hitting the floor of the Great Hall, the thudding sound echoing around them. That thudding sound was the lullaby that chased away nightmares.

She stroked his cheek with the pad of her thumb and brushed the hair from his forehead, noting a tiny sliver of a scar at his hairline and suddenly she remembered.

_Stepping down from Dumbledore's office after the final battle at Hogwarts, Hermione stood hand in hand with Ron and Harry as they walked through the Great Hall, looking around as people attempted to help clear away rubble, move the dead, and heal the wounded. Just outside the large doors a sight drew their attention. The Order, or what was left of it, had men and boys clad in black robes, bound in rope and on their knees in a long line with their backs up against the castle._

"_Did you see me fight?!" Lucius Malfoy was screaming, "I could have easily been on your side and you wouldn't have known!" he yelled as Aurors dragged him, literally kicking and screaming, to a sanctioned Apparition Point that had been set up by Professors Flitwick and McGonagall._

_Ginny was holding on tightly to a wide-eyed Luna who, at the time Hermione hadn't known, was staring at Draco with worry as his grey eyes focused on the ground while his father hollered in the background until the sounding crack of Apparition carried his screams far away. Draco and Greg Goyle were covered in ash, faces blackened by the fire in the Room of Requirement. To their left knelt other familiar faces: Adrian Pucey, Graham Montague, Cassius Warrington, and Marcus Flint._

_And Theo._

_Sweet Theo in Death Eater robes; a broken silver mask lay on the ground by his knees. _

"_They're hurt!" Someone was screaming and Hermione remembered seeing Daphne rush forward only to be held back by Aurors making threats of arrest. "They're hurt! It's not their fault! Draco! Theo!"_

"_Someone get that girl out of here!" a man Hermione didn't know yelled._

_Blaise came up and took Daphne by the shoulders, pulling her away and catching her younger sister, Astoria, with an arm as she too tried to reach the young Death Eaters. "You can't help them if you're brought in too," he told them._

_Harry and Hermione approached Tonks who was clinging to Remus for dear life in the aftermath of battle, grateful that they'd survived. Sirius, somewhere in the distance was yelling at Charlie Weasley to get some loose dragons under control before the Hospital Wing ended up on fire. _

"_Tonks," Harry said. "They're injured." He gestured to the Death Eaters, Draco and Greg both badly burned, Graham Montague was favouring a shoulder that looked dislocated, and a clearly terrified Theo was badly bleeding from his head. "They deserve trials and proper care," he said firmly. "I didn't fight a monster so that the victors could turn into more."_

_Tonks smiled at him and nodded, pulled away from Remus and moving past the other Aurors, wand drawn, to offer Healing Charms to the soon-to-be tried young Death Eaters. _

Hermione sighed and leaned forward, placing a kiss to the small scar on Theo's forehead, sighing in relief when she felt that his fever had reduced. She pulled away and looked down into Theo's heavy-lidded but open eyes. "Hey," she whispered. "How do you feel?"

"Better," he said in a hoarse voice. "What happened?"

"You spiked a really bad fever. You were shaking and woke me up. Gods, Theo . . . how often do you wake up covered in sweat?" she asked him.

He looked like he was trying to shrug. "Did I feel you kiss my forehead?" he mumbled.

"Yeah."

"That wasn't our first kiss either," he said quietly.

Hermione smiled softly. "You don't want our first kiss to be in a bathtub?" she teased.

Theo smirked. "Not unless you plan on getting in here with me."

oOoOoOo

Hours later when Hermione left the Manor to fetch the rest of her belongings and track down her Kneazle who apparently enjoyed sneaking out of her flat for days at a time to hunt mice and snakes and rats — "He really enjoys killing rats," Hermione had said, — Theo left the Manor and found himself at Draco's, sitting in the much too large study that used to belong to Lucius but now belonged to his friend.

Draco sat behind the massive desk, dragonhide boots kicked up on the wood, a coaster resting beneath the heel — "Because I like to be comfortable _and _not ruin the walnut burl finish on an antique," Draco hissed.

Blaise stood near the bookshelves, flipping through old tomes that very likely could curse him if he turned to the wrong page. It was a good thing Theo was there, just in case.

"She's saving me," Theo admitted quietly, not quiet enough that he didn't draw the attention of both of his friends.

"That's the idea, idiot," Draco drawled in a bored tone. Bored, he had said, because he'd found out that Hermione had been forced to take a week's vacation from work and he wasn't about to spend his days listening to Amos Diggory complain about the abundance of paperwork in her absence. He also wasn't going to do said paperwork himself.

Theo, unable to form the right words to tell them what had happened the night before when he'd woken in what felt like unbearable heat and frigid cold at the same time, only to have her there, caring for him, saving him, easing his fears and pains and making the shivering stop. He couldn't tell them that she'd run her fingers through his hair and stripped his t-shirt to wash the sweat from his chest. Couldn't tell them that he'd grinned at her, tired as he was, and still she blushed. Her cheeks turned the same shade of pink as the engagement ring on her finger that told the world she'd chosen him. The reasons didn't even matter anymore. She'd chosen him.

"I think I'm falling in love with her," he admitted when his chest tightened uncomfortably and the thought came in his head almost at the same time as it reached his mouth.

Blaise turned around, eyes wide and smirking.

Draco looked up from the Gringotts statements he'd been staring at. "Gods," he said, rolling his eyes. "Three bloody days engaged to a Gryffindor. I'm glad I married a Ravenclaw."

oOoOoOo

"I need the files, Harry," Hermione said as she stopped by the Ministry in relaxed Muggle clothes to stop by Remus's office and offer proof that she was enjoying a proper vacation. Werewolf approved, Hermione made her way to the Auror department where she stumbled — not so coincidentally — into Harry. "It's important. I need to know what happened."

"You know what happened, Hermione," Harry told her. "The curse killed them. Cases have been closed. Ron and I spent all day yesterday going back through everything and pinpointing the signs on Warrington, Montague, Flint, and Goyle. Malfoy was right. It all points to the curse."

"I need to know how they died."

He stared at her. "Hermione . . . their magical cores were drained they —"

"I need to know their symptoms. I need to know how they suffered," she said in a pleading tone.

Harry frowned and reached a hand up, placing it on her shoulder before pulling her into his arms. "Hey, it's okay, Hermione. It . . . bloody hell, Daph was right," he whispered but didn't say anything more.

"Can you get me the files?" she asked and he nodded.

"Out of curiosity, why didn't you ask Ron?

She pulled away and wiped at her eyes. "Because I didn't know if he'd be able to get them for me."

He furrowed his brows. "He has the same clearance that I —"

"You're Harry Potter."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't use my name to —"

"How'd you get Daphne Weird Sisters tickets for her birthday?" she asked knowingly.

Harry crossed his arms. "I paid damn good money for them," he said defensively.

She raised a brow. "And the backstage passes?"

He pursed his lips and his nose twitched.

Hermione chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Harry Potter."

"Yeah, yeah."

oOoOoOo

When they reunited at home — _their _home now — Theo was greeted by a happy witch and the ugliest cat he'd ever seen in his entire life. He didn't say a word about the beast, but leaned down to lightly scratch it behind the ears and smiled when Hermione beamed in response, telling him that "Crooksie" usually attacks strangers and people he didn't like. Theo felt equal parts of relief and concern. She couldn't have warned him about that fact before she brought the beast into his home? _Their _home?

At their pleading, Hermione taught the elves how to make lighter, healthier dishes for dinner and didn't even complain when they politely kicked her out of the kitchen. They ate dinner in the breakfast nook at Hermione's request. "That dining table is overcompensating for something," she insisted.

When they crawled into his bed — _their _bed — she smiled sweetly at him and he reached across the expanse of space between them, not wanting to push too far too fast, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing the center of her palm before shutting his eyes and falling asleep.

Hermione stayed awake, nervously waiting for something bad to happen. For Theo to start shivering, burning up; for him to wake screaming in agony; for him to die quietly. An hour and forty-two minutes exactly after he fell asleep, she filled the gap in the center of the bed and reached forward, placing the flat of her palm against his chest so that his beating heart and shallow breaths soothed her into her own slumber.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: I'm currently on vacation and unable to edit so if there are any mistakes I'll have to fix them when I get home. Hope everyone is having an awesome week!

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Seventeen

* * *

**March 12th, 2004**

Friday evening, Theo and Hermione invited all of their friends over to have dinner and help unpack her things. When the books were all properly shelved and everyone tired of listening to Pansy complain about things she wasn't allowed to eat, the witches separated from their men and moved into the kitchen where Hermione insisted on carrying the empty plates.

"Where are all the damn elves?" Pansy asked, looking around the empty kitchen.

"I gave them the night off," Hermione said and when her friends all stared at her incredulously, she rolled her eyes. "Okay fine, I had Theo send them to another wing of the manor to organise and clean random things. I hate the sight of them waiting on us hand and foot. It's unnerving."

"Just ignore her," Ginny said, brushing Pansy aside. "Now go back to the sleeping in his bed thing."

Hermione shrugged as if sharing a bed with Theo wasn't that big of a deal at all. She schooled her expression to hide the nerves she knew she would show if she didn't put in the effort to conceal them. "Technically, I suppose it's _our _bed now, isn't it?"

Ginny laughed. "But you just . . . jumped into your bed with him?"

Hermione glared. "Not like that," she said, leaning forward to fill the sink up with hot water, wondering if she could get away with cleaning the dishes without the house-elves sensing that she was doing housework on her own and popping in to shoo her away. "I just . . . we have to eventually, I figured might as well get the awkward part of it out of the way. Plus, gods, the sheets," she said with a moan. "Ginny. Imported Acromantula silk that's pushed off as Egyptian cotton. I have a bloody Order of Merlin and I'd gladly trade it for just one pillow case."

The redhead smirked. "The sexy wizard sleeping next to you in the sheets isn't so bad either, is he?"

Hermione blushed. "It's not like that," she said, reminding herself that sharing Theo's bed was just a stepping stone that needed to be taken. It didn't mean anything. In fact, it was quite possibly necessary considering the fevers he'd have in the night. Hermione would wait each night for Theo to fall asleep and then she would cross the empty barrier of their bed and place her hand against his firm chest to feel for a heartbeat. Sometimes she would count each one instead of counting sheep, timing them along with every breath he took as she studied his face. The length of his dark eyelashes, the strong line of his jaw and the way his neck would stretch as he adjusted his position in his sleep.

"Yet," Daphne said and chuckled. "What?" she asked when Hermione shot her a look. "Why are you acting demure and ashamed? He's a gorgeous man who you're engaged to. The world isn't going to blush and turn the other way at the thought that you might be shagging your future husband."

"We're not shagging," Hermione insisted, lowering her voice as though the men in the other room could hear them. "And we've been engaged for less than a week."

"I'd stop saying stuff like that now to give you any chance of passing off the fake relationship story you've plotted," Pansy threw out. "You've been engaged for months and dated long before that, Granger," she said, reminding Hermione of the story that she and Theo had concocted. "Besides, you're not the virginal little golden girl we all made fun of you for in school. Haven't you fucked a bunch of Muggles and then never contacted them again?"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "What? How would you —"

Pansy snorted. "Food doesn't just go into my husband's mouth. Words also tend to come out of it."

"That gossipy prat," Hermione growled.

"If it makes you feel any better, I hear Theo's fantastic at fucking."

"Pansy!" Daphne said reproachfully, but still laughed.

"What?" the black-haired Slytherin said, clearly unashamed. "You shared the dungeons with the rest of us. Those walls echoed and not everyone used Silencing Charms. Gods, half the time when I was with Draco, I'd hear Blaise and Theo's nightly conquests and be tempted to offer a trade."

"Draco doesn't like being dominated," Luna serenely said with a sweet smile on her face that made Hermione nervous. Sometimes she wondered if Luna was working a long game. Let them all think I'm crazy and then conquer the world when they're not looking. The fact that she married Draco Malfoy of all people only furthered suspicions.

Pansy made a face. "He hates being on bottom."

"He does when he can control everything," Luna said, ignoring the way that both Hermione and Ginny cringed at the idea of anyone having sex with Draco. "I'm _very _flexible."

Ginny made a gagging noise. "Didn't want to know that."

Pansy smirked and got that evil glint in her eye that made her friends nervous and strangers uncomfortable. "Your _brother, _on the other hand," she said to Ginny, "now he _loves _being domina —"

"Ah! Stop it!" Ginny wailed and covered her ears with her hands.

"And if you think his ears turn red when he's embarrassed, you should see how red his arse turns after a few good slaps."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I love being grown up and mature," she said sarcastically. "Should we discuss our favourite choices of wine and the new Ministry policies? No? We're just going to talk about our sex lives, or in my case, lack thereof, like rutting teenagers? Ginny, he's your brother, he has sex, get over it. Pansy, we don't need the details."

Daphne nodded and smiled sweetly. "I agree with Hermione. Be adults, girls," she said teasingly as she shook her finger at both Ginny and Pansy. "Harry and Hermione are basically brother and sister and you don't see her flinching like a baby when I bring up the fact that last night Harry spent more time with his face between my thighs than —"

oOoOoOo

Ron cringed at the sound of Hermione screaming from the other room. "So much bloody noise," he said in annoyance as he stood, leaning against an old oak bookshelf in Theo's study, purposely avoiding the shelves that he'd been told contained the really dangerous books.

"I don't even want to know what they're talking about in there," Harry confessed, shaking his head when Theo poured out drinks for Blaise and Draco, offering it then to Ron and Harry.

"They're probably talking about me," Theo admitted.

Draco scoffed. "They're screaming. It's likely about me."

"How are you and Hermione getting along?" Harry asked Theo as he took a seat on the end of the leather sofa.

"I'm not going to hurt her, Potter," Theo said, slightly defensively as he looked up from his small glass of brandy, swirling the liquid but not actually drinking it.

"I didn't say —"

Blaise laughed. "You Gryffindors don't know how to be subtle to save your lives. The two of you might as well have walked in here with your wands raised."

Harry sighed irritably. "She's my best friend. My sister. I have a right to worry about her and the bloke she's going to marry."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Granger can take care of herself."

Blaise turned and stared at Draco curiously. He had, until now, been digging through an old trunk that sat in the corner containing random things. When he'd stepped out earlier to use the loo, Theo admitted to the others that he kept that trunk there just for when Blaise visited — "He's a nosy bastard so I change out random objects anytime I know he's coming over. Keeps him occupied. Like a toddler." — Blaise, sufficiently exhausted from snooping through Theo's trunk, sat down in a chair beside Draco. "You going to keep calling her 'Granger' when she gets married?"

The blonde shrugged. "I'm certainly not going to call her 'Nott'. That's ridiculous. I call her 'Hermione' when I feel like it. Speaking of screaming and names," he said with a smirk and turned to look at Theo, "have you shagged —"

"Draco," Theo cautioned his friend.

"What?" Malfoy asked innocently. "I'm sorry my precious," he said looking over at Harry and Ron who was both cringing, "do you need to step outside while the big boys discuss grown up things?"

"Please just . . . I don't want to hear what you and Hermione may or may not be doing," Harry said, speaking to Theo and doing his best to ignore Draco's obvious attempts at provocation.

Theo nodded. "Not a problem. Can . . . how bad is this dinner on Sunday going to be?" he asked, looking specifically at Ron.

The redhead laughed. "At the Burrow? Fuck," he said with an exasperated sigh. "Do you like crowded places with too many sticky children and adults that can't keep their noses in their own business?"

Theo winced. "Not particularly."

"You'll be fine," Harry insisted. "Blaise made it through."

"That's because Molly likes to look at my arse," Blaise said and winked at Ron who visibly gagged.

"Blaise also wasn't a Death Eater," Draco said, his long perfected scowl firmly in place as he stared across the small room at Harry. The war was over, the good guys won and miraculously the younger generations of Death Eaters had been found innocent of war crimes considering the threats they'd been under. Of course, it had taken multiple rounds of Legilimency and illegally used Veritaserum to find that out, but still . . . innocent.

Guilty or not, prejudices still existed and while Draco could easily tell the rest of the world to fuck off on his own behalf, his in-laws and extended family didn't judge him for the mistakes he'd made as a child. Theo on the other hand — who Draco had tried to save via fake life deaths, threats, and blackmail — was not going to be so lucky. Draco had to deal with listening to his father-in-law ramble on about invisible creatures and conspiracy theories regarding the Weird Sisters and vampire cults. Theo, however, was a Marked Death Eater walking into a Weasel den.

The other men in the room appeared to be ignoring his suddenly dark mood.

Ron cleared his throat. "Mum's going to go mental when she finds out you're living together," he said to Theo. "Expect a stern talking to. She'll likely use me and Pans as an example."

Harry sat staring at the ground curiously for a long moment before he looked up at Theo. "Are you opposed to people knowing about your family?" he asked.

Theo shrugged. "I just assume people already do."

Harry nodded. "All right. I'll keep a look out for you, step in if things get out of hand," he said, but didn't go further into detail.

Blaise, like a toddler, stomped his foot to get the attention of the others. "Can we get the brooms now? I was promised Quidditch."

Harry smirked. "Go grab Ginny or she'll be cross."

"Three on three?" Ron suggested. "Chaser, Seeker, Keeper?"

"Chaser, Beater, Keeper," Theo insisted. "I'd like a chance at winning in my own backyard, thanks."

Draco scowled at his best friend. "Arsehole."

oOoOoOo

Hermione stood on the back porch near the gardens, watching the boys and Ginny fly above the fields below, twisting the hem of her shirt in her hands nervously. When Theo raised a bat to hit a Bludger that almost hit him instead, she recoiled and turned around. "How anyone can smile that much that high up with nothing keeping you from certain death but a bit of wood is beyond me."

Daphne grinned happily. "At least he's smiling. That's what's important."

Hermione turned and looked up, watching as the wind moved through Theo's hair. He was laughing and saying something, pointing the Beater's bat at Draco who turned and gave him a rude hand gesture. Theo threw back his head and laughed harder. "He is beautiful when he smiles," Hermione said softly. "Feels strange. I spent seven years at school cheering for Gryffindors during this stupid game and right now I kind of really want Draco, Blaise, and Theo to win."

Pansy smirked. "Me too."

Daphne turned and stared at her friend who had her swollen feet propped up on Luna's lap, both pregnant witches balancing tea cups and saucers on their bellies to Luna's quiet amusement. "Not very supportive of your husband, Pansy?"

Pansy laughed. "Not that. When Ron fails at things he's much more likely to try and prove himself in other areas," she said and waggled her eyebrows.

oOoOoOo

"I'm going to teach you to fly," Theo said with determination as he sat on his side of the bed, drinking down the glass of water and Muggle painkillers that Hermione had brought up with her.

Hermione snorted indignantly. "I know _how _to fly, thank you," she said, pretending to be more offended than she actually was. "I dislike flying."

He turned around and grinned at her in an unreserved way, as though they'd had this conversation a thousand times before, as though sharing this bed wasn't still a strange occurrence, a new thing where Hermione was testing the waters. "I'm going to teach you to like flying," he insisted.

Hermione laughed. "Good luck with that," she said, rubbing lotion on her arms before crawling beneath the sheets, adjusting an old green t-shirt that she'd stolen from Theo's dresser — at Daphne's suggestion — and did her best to pretend that he hadn't noticed.

"I've got the next hundred or so years to accomplish this goal and I'm perfectly content to bide my time," he told her.

Hermione smiled softly, watching as he stretched his arms and neck, likely working out knots and aches from playing Quidditch. "Have you finally stopped begging me to change my mind?" she asked.

Theo turned and slipped beneath the sheets, rolling on his side to face her, the large gap in the middle of the bed remaining. "I've very quickly grown accustomed to waking up to your face. If I die then I won't get to do that anymore, will I?" he said, smiling. He reached across the space between them to touch her fingers as he did every night, wincing a bit in obvious pain.

Hermione shot up. "Are you okay? Is it —"

He shook off her concerns. "Just a sore muscle," he insisted. "Haven't actually played a game in years."

She bit her lower lip and then took a deep breath. "Shirt off," she ordered him, ignoring the way he raised a brow at her. "I've got a salve that should help," she said and stood up from the bed, walking into the bathroom and returning with a small container filled with a clear paste.

Theo watched her walk and smiled, reaching his good arm behind his head and gripping at the t-shirt, yanking it forward and eventually off, revealing his bare torso that he noticed Hermione purposely avoiding staring at. "You just want me for my body," he teased.

"Hush," she said, rolling her eyes and stepping close to him, positioning her legs between his thighs as he sat on the edge of the mattress. "You weren't on the team in school," she pointed out curiously as she rubbed a bit of the salve between her fingers and then reached forward to rub it against Theo's shoulder, working up a heat so that the muscle could relax enough so that she could dig deeper.

"I thought you didn't like Quidditch?" he asked, eyes closed as he began to melt into her touch.

She smirked. "Three of my best friends were players and I went to every game. I knew the opposition. Mostly because I was terrified Slytherins would cheat, Gryffindors would lose their tempers, and everyone would end up in the Hospital Wing. Which happened quite often."

Theo moaned when she hit a particularly sore spot. "Oh gods, that feels good," he said and unconsciously raised a hand, trailing his fingers against her waist. She jumped lightly at his touch and he pulled his hand away from her watching as she moved to sit beside him on the bed for a better angle. "You didn't happen to do this for Potter and Weasley after games did you?" he asked curiously.

Hermione chuckled and then bit the corner edge of her bottom lip. "No. This is . . ." she said softly, "this is all yours."

Theo turned and looked at her with a heated stare, watching as she left one hand on his warm shoulder, the other anxiously tugging on the bottom of the green t-shirt he easily recognised as his own. "All mine?" he asked her, a grin spreading out across his jaw. "What's all mine?" he asked in a whisper as he leaned forward, smiling when he saw her breath catch.

"The salve?" He reached up, tugging her hand away from her lap and into his palm, lacing their fingers together and moving closer to her. "Your hands? Your touch?" Theo placed his free hand against the mattress to sturdy him as he leaned forward enough that she backed away, falling against the pillows behind her and gasping as he hovered over her. "All of you?" he asked, brushing his nose against her jaw. "Is it real yet, Hermione?"

She wasn't just keeping him from dying, he was certain of it. No, she was making him feel alive again in ways he hadn't before thought possible. He leaned down and placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the place just behind her jaw, beneath her ear.

Hermione moaned and fisted the black sheets. "Theo . . ."

"That was not our first kiss," he whispered, pulling away from her with a tender smile, clearly going any further was not in his plans.

Hermione sighed, slightly disappointed. "It never is," she said with a smirk.

"It will be soon," he promised her, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "When it's real."


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Back from vacation! And it was a looooong one! A lovely reader, **Natan** has offered to translate Tying the Nott in French and the first chapter is already posted! Also, tomorrow is my 31st birthday and **Colubrina** wrote a sweetly perfect Drabble for me, check out Chapter 3 of _Drabbles and Assorted Ficlets_ to find a Remus/Hermione story. Speaking of Remus and Hermione, I got bored (and stuck on a particularly bad case of writer's block) and decided to start a new Remione story called _Misplaced Moony_. Check it out.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Eighteen

* * *

**March 13th, 2004**

Theo stared at himself in the mirror, tugging at the Muggle clothes Hermione had set out for him. He had wanted to make a good impression on her parents and was already preparing for the worst, so requesting that _she _choose his attire he had thought would be to his benefit. Now, as he looked at the simple collarless t-shirt and blue denim jeans, he couldn't help but wonder if she was playing a prank on him. He was meeting _her parents_ for Merlin's sake and he looked like a . . . well, like a Muggle, but for some reason a Muggle dressed like _this _he assumed was a bad thing.

"Are you sure I look acceptable?" he asked, his tone hiding his nerves. "I'm meeting your parents. This hardly feels appropriate." He sighed and tugged at the plastic string and price tag attached to the neckline and broke it free. "I imagine if Draco were here, he'd have me straddled on the floor, choking me as he attempted to loop a silk tie around my neck."

She smirked at him before she walked into the now shared bathroom, wearing Muggle jeans that accentuated her figure in a delightful way that made him even more concerned about a lack of wearing robes. Robes hid things. _Important _things. Things he didn't want Hermione's parents knowing about.

"Don't be silly," she said as she slipped a pair of dangly earrings in her lobes, "a tie would look ridiculous in that shirt."

He chuckled in agreement and turned back to his reflection. He reached up with his left hand and ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix a few stray locks. When the dark shadow on his skin drew his attention, he sighed. "It's not long sleeved."

She turned and offered him a sweet smile. "It'll be fine. I told you, I don't lie to my parents. I mean, obviously they'll hear the fake story we came up with that everyone outside of our small circle of friends will hear, but nothing else," she insisted. "They're friends with the Weasleys and with Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey so if I lie to them about things in the Wizarding world, they'll just find out from others and then we'll have a whole new set of problems to deal with."

He raised a brow. "They're friends with the mediwitch from Hogwarts?"

Her posture stiffened very briefly and she forced herself to relax it, but the movement was easily caught by him. "I . . . okay," she said, "you'll hear it eventually. So before Harry, Ron, and I went on the run during that last year of the war, I was worried the Death Eaters would attack my parents."

"You were right to," he said, swallowing down memories of old Death Eater meetings just after taking the Dark Mark when the high priority was capturing Potter by any means necessary.

She frowned and looked incredibly tense. "I know, Draco . . . Draco told me what the plans had been for . . ." she said that and nothing more for which he was grateful. "Anyway, I . . . I altered their memories, removed me completely from their minds and sent them to Australia under false identities."

His blue eyes widened dramatically. "You . . . gods, Hermione. I knew you were brilliant but . . . you _altered _their _memories_?" he asked in absolute shock. There were rumours of her brilliance, of course. Anytime she out-brewed anyone in Slytherin, Snape wouldn't let their House hear the end of it for weeks. There'd been that story that went around at the end of second year about Harry Potter killing a monster and that _she'd _been the reason he'd even discovered it. Though no one could confirm or deny it, she'd been given credit for Potter's success in the Triwizard Tournament in fourth year as well.

_But memory alteration at seventeen?_ "How did you get them back?" he asked.

She sighed, her eyes looking far older than her twenty-five years. "A lot of work and even more help. They met with Madam Pomfrey for regular checkups for a while."

"And they're okay?" he asked her out of curiosity and watched as she briefly flinched. Gods, the girl had a thousand indicators that she was lying and hiding something, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what. Her parents were a sore subject, that much was obvious.

"Yes. Of course," she said stiffly. "Why wouldn't they be?"

He held up his hands in surrender at her tone and smiled, turning back to his reflection and glaring at the Dark Mark. "Okay, so . . . short sleeves. Will they know?"

"They'll ask. We'll explain."

"Will they throw me out?"

"No," she said and smiled at him. "My parents love me and they'll love you. Just don't kiss my mother's hand. And none of that weird head bowing thing you purebloods do."

He rolled his eyes. "It's a sign of respect."

"If you do it," she cautioned, "my father will make fun of you."

oOoOoOo

They Apparated a short distance away from her childhood home and then made the casual walk through suburban bliss. Theo made a note of the style of homes and the cars along the streets. Muggle things were often confusing but, like new models of brooms, even young wizards had a fascination with Muggle transportation. When his eyes fell on a shiny silver one that drove past and he nearly tripped over his feet when he turned to stare at it go, Hermione laughed.

"If you want, I can teach you to drive one," she said.

Theo nodded, said, "Maybe," and tried not to look impressed with her.

When they arrived at the house and Hermione knocked, Theo adjusted the stupid t-shirt and stood tall when a man opened the door and smiled down at Hermione brightly. Theo noted that she looked a great deal like her father with the exception of hair texture and colour. The man had dark brown, not the mix of chocolate, cinnamon, coffee, and honey like Hermione's. Theo could see flecks of grey and remembered what little he'd learned of Muggles growing up regarding the aging process. They lived shorter lives, that much he knew, but because of the differences Theo couldn't really get a tell on the man's actual age.

Hermione's father hugged her tightly and then turned his brown eyes on Theo who stood firm. He'd knelt in the presence of pure evil before and wasn't about to be intimidated by a Muggle, future father-in-law or not.

"Sir, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said and took the man's hand when it was held out to him. "Hermione says such fine things about her parents," he added, using words that would imply he and Hermione had been together for quite some time.

"Richard, please," the Muggle said. "We haven't heard much about _you, _I'm afraid."

"You embarrassed of me, love?" Theo asked teasingly, turning his focus on Hermione who rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Leave the poor boy alone, dear," a female voice called from beyond the door and a tiny wisp of a woman approached them, jokingly pushing aside her daughter and husband to smile up at Theo. "Or should you get your silly little 'hurt her and I'll kill you' speech out of the way?" she asked Richard.

Richard turned, looked at Theo and raised a questioning brow. "Is it needed?"

Theo grinned. "Her friends have already made the point, but I wouldn't deny a man his given rights to defend his only daughter," he said and his grin widened when the door was opened and he was welcomed into the house.

As Richard closed the door behind them all and Hermione dislodged the purse from her shoulder, reaching in it to pull out the gift of chocolates that Theo insisted they bring, the wizard in question turned to greet Hermione's mother. "Ma'am, it's lovely to meet you," he said and took her small hand between both of his. "Here is where I'm _supposed _to say I see where Hermione gets her beauty from, but I have a feeling you're far too smart to fall for my flattery."

The woman snorted and Theo could tell immediately where Hermione got the majority of her personality, and her lovely curls. "_Fall_ for it?" she said. "Unlikely. I won't _oppose _to it though."

"In that case," he said with a smile, "your daughter insisted that I _not _do this." He brought the woman's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. He felt smug when he saw her blush a little even though he could feel Hermione's eyes rolling from behind him.

"Call me Helen," the woman said sweetly and Theo released her hand. "I like him," she whispered to Hermione, snatching up the box of chocolates from her daughter.

"Come have a beer and let me get to know you, Theo," Richard invited, handing a cold glass bottle out and clapping him on the shoulder. Theo glanced down at the bottle and carefully turned a look to Hermione who was subtly shaking her head. He took her silent confirmation that the drink wouldn't mix well with the potions and other herbs and pills she had him on, but didn't want to appear rude, so he accepted the beverage and made a mental note to pretend to drink it and dump it out in a convenient location at random intervals to not rouse curiosity.

"Let the women chat and yell at us when the food is ready," Richard said with a smile as he led Theo to the back door while Hermione followed her mother into a spacious kitchen where Helen was already chopping vegetables and throwing them into a large bowl.

"Mum, why don't you sit down and let me finish this," Hermione said and reached for the knife.

Helen pulled away from her daughter. "Don't be silly dear, you and your young man are our guests."

"Mum, really I'm just trying to —"

"Hermione," Helen said, her voice slightly clipped.

Theo followed Richard outside and sat down on a metal chair around a patio table that had a terracotta herb planter as a centerpiece; he could smell the mint.

"So, Hermione says the two of you went to school together but that you were only recently introduced by a friend?" Richard asked, kicking his feet up on a second chair,

Theo mimicked the movement to appear relaxed even though he was far from it. His eyes were flickering to a large metal box on wheels with a white tank that read "propane" beneath it, and another metal box on wheels that sank lower to the ground with a massive black bag hanging off the back with what looked to be a handlebar. Muggle things. He had so many questions.

"Yes," he finally answered, "my best friend, Draco, introduced us officially."

Richard's jaw ticked. "He's the one who was mean to my girl when she was little."

Theo sighed. _Here it comes_, he thought and then nodded. "That would be Draco."

"Your _best friend_?"

"Our families were very close growing up," he answered, hoping that was a good enough reason to explain why he put up with Draco's behaviour over the years. The truth was, he loved his friends despite their flaws, and they each had plenty. But Slytherins were loyal. Especially after what they'd all gone through growing up.

"I seem to remember Hermione telling me that the boy's father was imprisoned after your war."

Theo did his best not to recoil at the words, took a breath and pretended to sip his beer. "He was."

Richard took a glance at Theo's arm. "Interesting tattoo."

The young wizard stared at the man and there was a silent understanding between them. He purposely didn't try to hide his shame the way he did when he was recognised in his own world. People who knew what he was, what he had been, would often divert their path to avoid him. Some would stop and shout. The more daring would even spit. Theo sneered in response. What would an apologetic glance to strangers do to fix the situation? He didn't need or want their forgiveness. _These _people though? Muggles who'd had their memories ripped from their skulls and then shoved back in a year later only to find out that their only child had been the target of psychopaths because she'd had the unfortunate circumstance of befriending Harry Potter as a child and, even if she hadn't, she would have been hunted simply for being born. These people's forgiveness he sought out eagerly. Would likely beg for it if they had the thought to insist for such a gesture.

"Folly of youth," Theo finally replied a bit mournfully, scratching at the Dark Mark with a bitter look on his face. "You jump right to the point, don't you, Richard?" he asked with a tone of admiration. He liked men that didn't bullshite. It wasted time. Time was something Theo had come to respect since his began running out.

"I only have the one daughter who showed up for dinner last week and said she was getting married to a man we'd never heard of," Richard said and then took a sip from his beer. "A man introduced to her by the boy who made her cry every time she came home to tell us about what happened at school," he said and Theo noted that Richard's eyes narrowed a fraction. There was real anger there and Theo couldn't blame him. The closer he got to Hermione the more irritable he was when reminded of the way she'd been treated in school. "A man who happens to have a tattoo that I know a little too much about, for being a Muggle."

"Would it seem cowardly to admit that it wasn't done by choice?" Theo asked.

"Is that an honest answer?"

"Yes."

"Cowards deny the hard truths about themselves," Richard said after a moment of contemplation. "Brave men face them, accept them."

Theo smirked. "You would have been a Gryffindor, I think."

"Hermione says that," Richard said with a proud grin, clearly taking the statement as the greatest of compliments. Theo wondered if he'd have been thrown out of the house if he'd suggested that either of Hermione's parents could have ended up in Slytherin. "So, what are your intentions with my daughter, Theo?" Richard asked, cutting to the chase.

"I intend to marry her, sir. Make her happy. Keep her safe."

Richard laughed. "Don't let her hear that last part."

"I intend to keep _myself _safe as well, sir," Theo said with a smirk.

"And tell me, do you love her?"

He did his best not to pale at the question. They were _supposed _to be in love. Had supposedly been engaged since before New Year and had dated for months before that. Theo was _supposed _to love her, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. It didn't feel fair to say them when he didn't know for sure. And to not say them first to Hermione. "I . . . she's saving my life," he said honestly.

Richard smiled, accepting his answer. "Most good women do."

oOoOoOo

Twenty minutes later they all sat around the same outdoor table. The pot of mint had been moved aside and replaced with a large salad bowl, a platter of baked fish and steamed vegetables. Theo sighed in relief at the sight, glad that he wouldn't be sick come morning because he wasn't about to refuse to eat food that had been prepared just for him. Just for him, he suspected, and wondered if Hermione had contacted her parents ahead of time and told them that he wasn't to be eating rich and heavy foods.

"Now, tell us, Theo," Helen addressed him with a smile, "what is it that you do?"

"I'm a Curse-Breaker."

"Isn't that what Molly and Arthur's oldest boy does?" Helen asked Hermione.

"Bill Weasley?" Theo raised a brow. "Yes, but he specifically works for Gringotts. I did my Apprenticeship in Egypt where he'd previously worked. Most Curse-Breakers are used to disarm old tombs, crypts, some historical sites to either bring back gold, treasure, or sacred objects for the goblins. I occasionally do some freelance work for them when they feel like paying my rates, but I prefer less dangerous work. I generally hire myself out to families and businesses, setting up security wards and things like that."

"That must pay well," Helen said, her eyes flickering to the giant glittering ring on Hermione's hand.

"Family heirloom," Hermione said in response to her mother's silent question. "Theo's a pureblood and most of the old families are inherently wealthy. It's a shock that many of them still work."

"I'd get bored," Theo admitted. "I have friends who live off of the wealth of their parents, or great-great-grandparents as it sometimes is. They're bothersome and annoying and all they do is ask me about my job," he chuckled, clearly thinking of Blaise.

"Theo was almost top of our class," Hermione said, a hint of pride in her voice as she changed the subject.

"Had I gone back for that last year, I would have given you a run for your Galleons."

She snorted. "I'm hardly afraid of you."

"I could have taken Muggle Studies and Divination and earned more N.E.W.T.s than you."

She rolled her eyes. "N.E.W.T.s in pointless subjects, I'll be sure to pick up a packet of gold stars just for you," she said sarcastically and the two shared a teasing grin that Richard chuckled at; Helen, on the other hand, was beaming with absolute joy. It made Theo slightly uncomfortable.

Another thing that made Theo slightly uncomfortable was the proverbial hippogriff in the room.

He noticed the way the family moved around one another. Helen had her own gravitational pull and Hermione hovered nervously, sometimes so much so that her hands shook. Richard did the same thing but had a bit of reservation to his movements, as though he were a trained animal that knew better than to step out of line because he'd been reprimanded for it before. When Hermione attempted to do the same only to earn a stern glare from her mother, she'd turn her attention to Theo instead, offering to refill his glass, clear his plate, and even just put a comforting hand on his arm. He wondered if she were trying to comfort herself but didn't realise it yet.

Putting the pieces together wasn't difficult. The Grangers, in general, were not subtle people in the slightest. Gryffindors indeed, all three of them. Hermione, for whatever issues she was having with her mother, had turned them onto Theo and he was reaping the benefits. He didn't complain. He didn't even think he was insulted by it.

He'd spent the first eleven years of his life dealing with an abusive Death Eater for a father who no longer had a Dark Lord to pay homage to, and a mother who hovered and doted affection on him like one of her precious crups. That, of course, had all ended the first Christmas home from Hogwarts which was spent cowering in fear of his drunken father who quite literally beat his mother to death. He'd returned to Hogwarts two weeks later after a swift funeral where Narcissa Malfoy had been caught scolding Thoros Nott over the "accidental" death of his wife — in public, no less. Theo had spent the majority of holidays home from school with the Malfoys after that. Though each return to Hogwarts was a reminder of the care that had been lost. Every time he crawled into a carriage beside his friends who stared ahead at the nothingness in front of them while Theo instead saw Thestrals.

He would accept Hermione's care and affection, even if it wasn't originally intended for him. Who was he to deny a glass of water when he was parched, even if it had been offered to someone else before him?

"Hermione says you're dentists? What does that entail?" he asked eventually after Helen literally smacked Hermione on the back of the hand when she tried to clear her mother's plate for her.

Hermione nervously chewed her nails as her mother spoke of a variety of things that occurred in a dental practice. Theo was mildly intrigued until both she and Richard went into great detail describing the process of something called a root canal. He did his best to hide his mild horror and made a plan to ask Hermione later if her parents were just screwing with him.

"Yesterday I performed three of them," Helen said.

Hermione looked up. "_Three_? Those take . . . Mum, should you be . . ." she tried to say and then let out a loud sigh of frustration, "nevermind."

Ignoring her daughter's outburst, Helen changed the subject. "I've opted to forgo cleaning the house in exchange for working. It's much more fulfilling. Richard's offered to hire someone for me."

"You're hiring a maid?" Hermione raised a brow. "You shouldn't waste your money like that."

"_I_ don't want to do the laundry," Richard joked.

"Maybe . . . maybe Theo and I could look into getting you a house-elf, or sending one of ours over."

Had he not suspected something before that moment, Theo would have had no doubts that Hermione was hiding something now. He turned and gaped at her, eyes wide. Not even trying to hide his shock at her words. To do so would have implied that he was stupid enough not to know the woman, and she knew that he wasn't stupid. "What?"

Hermione winced, realising her obvious mistake.

Richard waved off the suggestion. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm going to get dessert," Helen said and stood from the table.

She was quickly joined with her husband who said a quiet, "I'll help you," and left their daughter and Theo alone in the backyard.

"Are you okay?" Theo asked, reaching up and pulling her hand from Hermione's mouth, noticing immediately that she'd chewed down to the bed and would likely start bleeding if she didn't stop. "You seem incredibly stressed. Have I said something wrong? Do they not like me?" he asked, hoping to ease her worries by redirecting them.

It seemed to do the trick and she turned and smiled at him affectionately, her expression filled with a strange appreciation. She reached up and touched his cheek and he turned his face into her palm, kissing her hand. "You've been wonderful. I'm just . . . it's nothing you need to worry about."


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Extra chapter because it's my birthday. I will accept gifts in the form of fic recs! LOL!

The biggest question I get from readers on this fic is why Hermione hasn't told anyone about her mom, Theo especially. The reason she hasn't told her friends is because she's stubborn. Hermione has struggled to be viewed as strong in the Wizarding world that taught her she was weak. This issue leaked over into her personal life. She's not the one who gets taken care of, she's the one who takes care of others. Plus, there is nothing that her friends can do to fix her mother, and Harry and Ron especially would hover and feel useless because they're the type that need to fix whatever needs fixing. Hermione couldn't stand their pity. Of course she also doesn't know that she needs their support and comfort. As for Theo, their new relationship is in this perfect little bubble of those early feelings of anticipation and adoration and growing love and bringing reality into that would pop the bubble. It's going to be popped though.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Nineteen

* * *

**March 13th, 2004**

After pudding, Theo insisted that he clear away the plates. Helen and Richard initially put up a fuss, but Theo spouted some non-existing pureblood custom rule that would have made him seem greatly offended if they objected to his offer. Hermione followed him into the kitchen and he stared awkwardly at the sink. "Now what?" he asked and began fiddling with knobs.

She laughed, a sound that made him smile, and drew her wand to cast a couple of household Cleaning Charms that she said she'd learnt from Molly Weasley. He took the brief moment away from her parents to steal a kiss to her cheek, figuring that even if Richard or Helen walked in, it would seem like something any engaged couple would do.

They rejoined the Grangers a few minutes later when the dishes had finished washing themselves. Hermione and her mother sat down in the living room and Richard took Theo by the shoulder, directing him to the garage under the guise of showing him the inside of a car, which Theo had never before seen.

"Theo, I was worried, I have to admit, about meeting you," Richard said, leaning against the red car with his arms crossed over his chest and suddenly looking like he'd aged just in the way he was relaxing against the vehicle; as though he'd been forcing himself to hold a stiff pose for hours and was finally given reprieve. "Hermione . . . she keeps so much of her life in your world to herself and I can't help but worry that it's because something new and horrible is happening to her and she's trying to protect us from it all. Again."

Theo frowned. "I hope I've eased some of your concerns."

"You'll take care of her," Richard said, nodding along with each word as he spoke. "You'll be there for her. I can see it."

"Sir?"

"It's not easy on her, I know that," the man said and sighed loudly, rubbing his hands down his face. "It's not easy to watch someone you love . . . die . . . and not be able to do a thing to stop it. But we've told her, Helen has told us _both_, that she wants a normal life. She just wants to be happy and not fussed over. It's . . . God, it took me far too long to come to terms with it and I'm certain I still haven't. But it's what she wants. Hermione though . . . I worry that she's not handling it. She's trying to fight something that can't be fought."

Theo forced himself to hold his expression firm. One that looked perhaps like understanding, maybe sympathy. Not pity. _Never pity_. Inside, he was letting all the pieces slide and click into place while simultaneously wondering how Hermione had the ability to even move throughout the day. How she was strong enough to deal with this _and _her friends _and _her job _and _somehow still manage to give a damn about _him_.

Gryffindors, Theo was starting to realise, were amazing creatures that were far too often underestimated. "Sometimes there isn't an enemy," he said quietly.

Richard nodded. "Wish like hell that there was."

"Is . . . is there anything we can do for you both?" Theo asked. "I . . . money isn't something that I have to worry about and I would very much like to help out in any way that I can. Hermione might have jumped to an extreme there with the elves, she's clearly stressed, but . . . they _are _available."

Richard smiled at the gesture but shook his head. "Just take care of my daughter, Theo. Be good to her and . . . and don't let her be broken by this."

Theo thought about his own mother and the day he saw Thestrals for the first time. He'd kept it together all throughout the post-Yule return to Hogwarts feast but the second he stepped foot over the threshold of the Slytherin Common room, he'd shattered into pieces. He'd been eleven-years-old and had seen death. Seen his mother die. Blaise had somehow managed to swipe a bottle of firewhisky from a couple of sixth years and they all had a drink in honour of Theo's mother. Daphne and Pansy hugged him tightly when he cried. Then when everyone had gone to bed and he retired to the room he shared with Draco, Blaise, Vince, and Greg, it was Draco who sat beside him on the edge of his bed, hand placed on his shoulder in silent comfort. The simple gesture let him know that he wasn't alone. He broke, but somehow his friends patched him back together.

He could do that for Hermione.

"I swear it on my life."

oOoOoOo

When Hermione offered to stay and help clean up around the house after another hour of visiting, Helen insisted that Theo take her home immediately and only return her if she was in the mood to make wedding plans. Hermione had huffed in severe frustration and Theo had promised he would do just that and then invited the Grangers over for dinner any night of their choosing. He shook Richard's hand and accepted the hug that Helen bestowed upon him before both of Hermione's parents turned and gave their daughter love and attention and whispered words of approval over her choice of husband. Theo pretended not to hear them but silently preened over their endorsement.

The young couple left the house and began walking toward the Apparition point, Hermione's steps a bit faster than normal. Theo could tell she was trying to escape. Trying to make a break for it before she visibly broke. He kept pace with her and remained silent, watching with curiosity as her fists clenched, her shoulders stiffened and she took in slow and deliberate breaths to try and keep herself calm.

When they arrived at the Apparition point, she reached for her wand and Theo stilled her hand. "No," he said. "You're not in a place emotionally to Apparate and I won't have you splinching yourself," he insisted, ignoring the look of shock and shame on her face at being found out, took hold of his wand in one hand and her wrist in the other and Disapparated.

When they arrived in the gardens of Nott Manor, it was raining. Theo didn't make a move to shield either of them from the storm. The crushing feel of Apparition had sucked the breath that Hermione had been holding for hours and it had been the final straw that broke her. She wrapped her arms across her chest and took in deep gulps of air trying to control herself. Theo looked on in horror. It was like watching a crystal vase try to will itself not to shatter when thrown at a stone wall. She was practically vibrating in the effort to cling to what little strength she had left.

_Gods,_ Theo thought as he stared at her, _Potter and Weasley would have been dead if not for this woman_. It had always been obvious that she carried them through school and it had been implied that she'd done the same through the war. Strong. Independent. Damn near unbreakable. He couldn't let her break. He'd promised her father not an hour earlier. If she did break, which was likely, he promised himself that he'd try to put her back together again.

He approached her from behind and turned her body to face him before pulling her into his arms. The warmth of his embrace, even with rain pouring down in sheets against them, cracked through her resolve and she let out a loud sob against his chest that was followed by an avalanche of tears and gasping breaths. He waited for the crying to let up before he said a single word and when he finally did, he didn't placate her with apologies for the situation or words of comfort that wouldn't actually do a damn bit of good.

It's _wasn't _okay. She _wasn't _going to be just fine. Things _didn't _happen for a reason.

He kissed her forehead and said in a clear voice, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," and somehow, that made her sag against him in relief.

oOoOoOo

He pulled her inside the manor and ignored Pixy when she fussed over the fact that they were both soaking wet and freezing — "Crazy Master . . . catching himself and Mistress a cold!" — and led her up the stairs to their room, perching her on the bed where he knelt to remove her shoes and socks before slipping into the bathroom to fill the large tub with hot water and added a few drops of lavender oil that he'd found among some of Hermione's things.

He pulled her back to her feet, wiped a few remaining tears and directed her to the tub, closing the door behind him as he left her with her privacy. He did, however, sit outside the door and talked to her nearly the entire time to make sure she knew that she wasn't alone; that he hadn't abandoned her to be with her grief and tears.

"They didn't say anything about us living together," he commented thoughtfully. "I have to admit, I was expecting a bit of an argument there."

"My parents lived together for two years before they got married," Hermione said, her voice echoing in the bathroom behind the door that separated them. "My mother's family was very conservative and threw an epic fit that went down in family history as legendary. My parents pride themselves on not being hypocrites. I was never forbidden from doing anything they might have done at the same age," she told him, and he thought he could hear the smile in her voice again. "They would, instead, offer me advice about situations and then caution me appropriately."

"Strange," he said.

"What's that?"

"Did your parents also break out of a bank by riding on a dragon when they were seventeen?" he teased.

Hermione laughed and Theo smiled.

"To be fair, they didn't exactly _forbid _me from doing that. And I was eighteen"

He smirked. "My mistake."

Forty minutes later when she finally emerged wearing a fluffy cotton robe, her mass of curls pulled back into a braid, she found Theo already in his pyjamas, lying on the bed with a silver platter filling the space in the middle of the mattress. On the platter sat a silver-rimmed plate with a single, though large, serving of Tiramisu.

"How'd you get that?" she asked curiously, clearly aware that Theo wouldn't have been able to make it himself since he'd spent the majority of her bath sitting at the door, talking to her.

He grinned at her. "Illegally," he said in a teasing tone and she actually smiled at him in reply. "Come sit." He gestured to the bed. When she sat down on her side, he removed the plate and set the silver platter on the floor, scooting forward, spoon in hand.

The first bite he fed her had her eyes rolling in the back of her head and he made a mental checklist of things he wanted to try to achieve that same look. They took turns eating away at the dessert, occasionally talking about random wedding ideas, plans for the following week, and wildly hilarious suggestions of what Draco and Luna would likely name their child.

"Puppis," she said whilst laughing.

Theo smirked. "That's terrible. Almost as bad as Leo," he teased.

Hermione snickered. "Not nearly as awful as Scorpius. What about Fornax?"

He laughed. "Or Reticulum," he said and watched as she cringed.

"Camelopardalis," she said with a smirk.

"Is that _really _a constellation?" he asked her with a raised brow.

She nodded, licking Tiramisu off of their shared spoon before handing it over to him for his turn. "The Giraffe constellation. You don't remember this from Astronomy?"

He shook his head. "One of few classes I didn't pay much attention to. My best friend was related to the Black family. We heard enough 'star talk' in the common room. Did you know, for instance, that Draco means dragon?" he said sarcastically. "Because we were told a great many times."

She giggled and missed it when Theo rubbed a bit of cocoa powder on the tip of her nose and then leaned forward to kiss it off. He pulled back and watched as her tongue darting out to lap at her bottom lip, teeth gently tugging her lip as she stared back at him. He dragged his thumb through the remaining cocoa on the plate and then reached up, brushing the sweet dust against her lips and watched as those lips parted when she took a sharp breath in understanding and anticipation.

Theo leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against hers; directly and not at the corners as he'd done before during their repeated "not first kisses".

He felt her slightly melt into him and he took that as a good sign, bringing a hand up to gently cup her jaw, letting his tongue dart out to lick the cocoa off of her lips before delving slowly into her mouth and tasting the moan that escaped her throat, finding it so much sweeter than the dessert they'd just shared. When her tongue actively sought out and touched his, he groaned and fought the urge to tug at the belt securing her bathrobe.

She placed the palm of one hand on his chest and he smiled against her, pressing forward until she leaned back against the pillows behind her, threading the fingers of her other hand through his hair and resting them at the nape of his neck. He ignored the empty plate that had been sitting between them, even as it dug a bit into his hip, the accompanying spoon lost somewhere in the many folds of black bedsheets. He put a hand on her waist and pulled her against him, aligning their bodies as he deepened the kiss, relishing each moan and mewl and whimpering noise she made. She made such lovely little noises.

_Two bodies ruined by a single sweetness,_ Theo thought to himself, wondering if he should say the words aloud but physically unable to pull away from her, _kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity_.

She was innocence and fire. Sweetness and warmth. She tasted like sugar and coffee, smelled like lavender and rain, and her lips were softer than the bed sheets he'd often catch her rolling around in with a greedy smile when she didn't think he was looking.

She was sin and salvation.

She was Death's pardon.

He nibbled on her bottom lip and the sigh she let out in response was a breath of life.

He kissed her once more, softly, barely a brush of their lips before he pulled away and smiled down at her, a smile that widened when she returned the expression, no hint of anxiety or regret in her eyes.

"Was that not our first kiss either?" she asked in a quiet, timid voice.

He kissed her again, first on her lips and then on her jaw and once more on the place just below her ear. "What do you think?"

"So . . . it's real?"

He looked down into her eyes once more, smiled and confessed, "This is _so very _real."

* * *

**A/N**: Worth the wait?


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Still adjusting to being home from vacation, but I'm hoping to get back to furiously writing very soon. I'm also hoping for a new laptop by the end of this weekend which would make writing much easier. Fingers crossed.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Twenty

* * *

**March 14th, 2004**

Sundays, Hermione decided, were created for the exclusive purpose of kissing Theo.

A part of her felt slightly terrible that the rest of the world was inconvenienced with an extra day between Saturday and Monday, likely spent compensating for their inability to use the day for it's intended purpose.

She woke wrapped in strong arms instead of across the mattress on the other side of the bed. Hermione breathed a strange sigh of relief at the feeling of a warm body behind her; at the soft puffs of breath on her neck that somehow reminded her that she too, was still breathing. Lately, it felt as if she desperately needed that reminder. She relished Theo's warm embrace and the heavy feel of his arms around her while he slept on peacefully, silencing that logical voice in the back of her head that was trying to tell her that a week ago she'd been panicking over the prospect of marrying this man.

Very carefully, she slipped out of his arms to reach for her wand that sat on the bedside table so that she could cast a Breath Freshening Charm on her mouth, entirely unaware that — eyes still closed — Theo was smirking behind her. When she returned to his embrace, she actually went to the effort of lifting and repositioning his arms so that they fell around her in what appeared like a natural state. The moment she appeared finally settled against him, Theo nuzzled his nose against the back of her ear and kissed her lobe until she shivered in his embrace.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"It is."

"Do you want to repeat that helpful little charm on me, or should I do it myself?" he asked and smirked when he could see the slight blush at the edge of her cheek. "Me then?" he chuckled and turned over, reaching for his wand to cast the charm before very quickly turning her body over and kissing her in a way that felt both excitingly new and already comfortingly familiar.

Hermione moaned softly into Theo's mouth and brought her hands up, cupping his jaw and running the pads of her thumbs back and forth over the small bit of stubble there. When her fingers traced their way along his jawline and came to rest at the back of his head, softly playing with the short hair on his neck, he groaned and slipped his tongue into her mouth; she actively had to stop herself from mewling. He pressed his body against hers as he ran a firm hand up her pyjama covered thigh to rest gently at her hip. She panicked slightly when she felt his morning erection pressing into her abdomen but relaxed when she realised that he wasn't doing anything to relieve the obvious pressure; nor did he appear to be embarrassed when it was obvious she could feel him against her. Then again, Theo Nott didn't strike her as the type of man to be easily embarrassed.

After trailing a series of soft kisses against her jaw and breathing in deep at the hollow of her throat, Theo sighed. "I need to go and take my pills and potions," he said in a regretful voice before kissing her once more and then leaving the bed.

"I'll ask Pixy to bring breakfast up here," Hermione called after him.

When he returned, she lazily ran her fingers through his hair until the painkillers kicked in, ridding him of the headache that came on far too fast for either of their likings. Pixy dropped off bowls of fruit and vanished away immediately after, giggling to herself. They spent an entire hour eating, throwing grapes into each other's mouths from across the bed and laughing when Hermione's aim was far off. Theo's reflexes, however, kept food off of the floor as he quickly reached out to catch every stray grape.

"You should have been a Seeker," she told him.

He laughed. "And deflate poor Draco's fragile ego?"

He fed her slices of sticky kiwi and then kissed the juice from her lips until she was completely melted under him, forgetting that this was still so very new and unexpected even though it felt relaxed and natural. She fed him bits of strawberries and felt him nibble the tips of her fingers after each bite until her toes started curling.

When fatigue caused by the curse hit him, Hermione told him to rest and used it as an excuse to tuck her head between his chest and shoulder, draping an arm over his waist until he fell back asleep.

oOoOoOo

While Theo slept, utterly exhausted, beside her for three full hours without even moving aside from breathing, Hermione dug out the files that Harry had been able to procure for her. She ignored the pictures of the bodies, instead reaching for the notes regarding witness interviews and post mortem Healer examinations.

_Marcus Flint_. His mother gave a statement saying that he'd been in pain and potions hadn't been helping. She had assumed it was something to do with Quidditch injuries, but he was drunk so often that she could never get a proper answer out of him anytime she asked. When he'd fallen from his broom, spectators said that he'd done nothing to prevent his eventual death, and instead had held his arms out, almost as though embracing it with relief.

_Cassius Warrington_. Suspected of being poisoned. The healers had noted that his body had suffered rapid weight loss prior to his death and severe damage to his esophagus, which is what had led them to believe someone had poisoned him. Something deadly that would have taken months to eventually kill him simply by forcing him to starve to death.

_Graham Montague_. His flatmate had been interviewed by Tonks and she'd written down a series of quotes from the man. Montague had been acting strange. Sleeping in a lot. Complaining of aches and pains. Eventually, he said that his vision started blurring. He'd have rotten mood swings. And then one day he came home in the middle of August to find him dead in the bathroom, deep, self-inflicted scratch marks all over his body.

_Gregory Goyle_.

Hermione sighed as she looked at the clipping from the _Daily Prophet_ in the file. She'd known how Greg died. Or at least, the eventual cause of it. His friends hadn't seen him in over six months when he showed up at the Leaky Cauldron in the middle of December gibbering nonsensical words. Witnesses claimed he was spouting off about the Dark Lord, clearly hallucinating and sweating bullets. When a good samaritan tried to calm him down he's snapped and sent an Entrail Expelling Curse at them that, thankfully, missed. "Suicide by Aurors," the papers called it. He'd fought back in such a violent way that they had no choice. "He was already mental," most had said. Daphne, Draco, Blaise, and Pansy had kept quiet about the death of their friend anytime Hermione had seen them.

She turned and looked at her sleeping Theo wondering when exactly, over this short period of time had she started thinking of him as hers. Hers to save. Hers to look after. Hers to protect. Protect from all of this. She shoved away the files, crawled back in bed and snuggled against his side before falling back asleep.

oOoOoOo

She woke in the middle of the day and turned to spot Theo's side of the bed empty. The bathroom door was closed and she instantly worried that something had happened; that he'd perhaps gotten sick again and was trying to hide it from her. Intermittently nervous since this whole mess began, Hermione slipped out of bed and made her way to the bathroom door, listening. _Silencing Charm_. She chewed her bottom lip, curiosity slowly getting the better of her. Ron and Harry and Hogwarts had ruined her rule-abiding ways and things like the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map had made her question just how much she actually respected people's privacy, but not enough to ignore the voice in the back of her head that told her to leave people to their business. She reached a hand out and quiet quietly turned the doorknob.

Steam billowed out of the bathroom in waves and Hermione glanced through the density of it that obscured the vision of Theo behind frosted glass shower doors. She could hear the water pounding down against tile walls, ceramic floors, and already wet skin. She couldn't see clearly, but the outline of him was enough to bring a flush to her cheeks. It really was unfair just how beautiful he was.

"Ungh."

Her eyes widened at the sound and her lips parted in shock as realisation came over her. Embarrassed and ashamed for intruding, Hermione slowly began closing the door when Theo hissed out, "Hermione," through his teeth and she stifled a gasp.

Returning to the bed with her hand pressed against her chest, Hermione regulated her breathing and let the bit of adrenaline ease out of her. She nervously licked her lips as Theo's moan echoed in her head. Her. He was thinking of _her_. Daphne's confession that Theo had been enamoured with her at Hogwarts came to the forefront of her mind and she couldn't help but wonder if, even back then, he did _that _while thinking of _her_.

The thought that he was doing it now had her unconsciously rubbing her thighs together. The week had been exceptionally stressful and, aside from a few heated moments with Theo, she had essentially neglected to even consider easing the tension herself. But now . . . gods, it had just been so very, very long.

She leaned back against Theo's pillows on his side of the bed, letting his scent wash over her like Amortentia as her hand slipped down beneath the waistband of her pyjamas. She closed her eyes thinking of Theo nibbling at her fingers as she slipped slices of strawberries past his lips. Thinking of Theo kissing, licking away kiwi juice from her mouth. Thinking of Theo using those teeth, those lips, that tongue for _other _things.

Hermione bent her knees and softly moaned as she slipped two fingers inside, crooking them back and firmly hitting a sweet spot just . . . _just there_. She willed herself to forget that she'd only been with Theo for one week and thinking of him like this might be inappropriate, reminding herself that she'd known the few Muggles she'd slept with for nearly as long before actually having sex with them.

The fresh memory of kissing him in the morning with his hardness pressed against her had her toes pushing into the mattress, her calves tightening and her back arching as she felt herself flutter and then fly, the ball of tension dissipating almost instantly.

The bathroom door opened and Hermione pulled her hand out of her pyjamas like a child that had been caught sneaking a biscuit before dinner. Her face, neck, and chest flushed and the colour only deepened when she looked over to see Theo standing there with a towel wrapped low around his hips, water still dripping down his bare chest. She whimpered at the sight and then pretended, for the sake of her dignity, that she hadn't made a sound.

Theo was silently observing her with a curious look on his face, his eyes raking over her body as she lay on his side of the bed, breathing slightly heavy, skin deliciously pink. She looked guilty and shy and he'd learned very quickly that Hermione Granger was rarely shy unless he was whispering sweet — and sometimes not so sweet — nothings in her ear. She was up to something. Or perhaps, _had been_ up to something.

"Hello, lovely," he said and reached out for her right hand the way he often did. When she offered him instead her left, he grinned deviously.

_Busted_.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, refusing to take his eyes off of hers as he kissed the fingers of her left hand. "You . . . sweet girl," he said quietly, "look very beautiful today." She smiled and relaxed and then, like a viper, he struck and snatched up her right hand. Hermione's eyes widened and her body stiffened as he leaned forward and kissed the tips of those fingers as well, breathing in deep through his nose, his eyes twinkling as they stared into hers knowingly.

She made a squeaking noise when Theo refused to break eye contact as he opened his mouth and pulled her index and middle finger between his lips, sucking them down past her knuckles. She watched him in horrified embarrassment, feeling his tongue rolling against her skin. When he closed his eyes and groaned the same way he did when savouring a fine wine, Hermione let out a shaky breath, whispered "Fuck," and felt the walls of her pussy pulse gently, quivering in an aftershock of the earlier orgasm.

"Naughty witch," Theo whispered as he released her fingers from his mouth and crawled up her body to kiss her hard and deep, letting her taste her own essence on his tongue, rekindling that fiery ball of tension she'd just worked so hard to relieve.

"You're very forward," she said when he pulled away, taking note that it was unfortunate that his towel remained securely intact around his hips. "And far too smug looking."

He grinned. "I hardly think you'll be running for the hills."

She raised a brow. "And what makes you think that?"

"Because I've learned several things about Gryffindors this past week. One, they are loyal to a fault and honour their promises. Two, they're not in the least bit subtle about anything. And three," he grinned, "they're curious little cats. I think I have you very intrigued Miss Granger."

She sighed in defeat. _Not the least bit subtle indeed_.

He kissed her once more before getting up and making his way toward the large walk in closet to get ready for dinner at the Burrow. He purposely didn't close the door behind him when he dropped his towel, giving her a lovely view of his arse. She threw herself back on the pillows, silently kicking herself for being so obvious. _Fucking Slytherins_.

She was going to save his life.

But he was going to be the death of _her_.

* * *

**A/N**: I figured you all waited a very long time for the first kiss that I wouldn't hold back much more when it came to other lemony bits. Up next . . . Theo meets the Weasleys!


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Posting this chapter a bit early because . . . because I'm bored and have been trying to write new chapters of stories, but couldn't get anything out.

Q&amp;As - **RoaringLion51**, I literally have ONE favourite Theomione fic and it's actually a triad fic called _After the Sea_ by **Colubrina**. It's in my top five favourite things ever. **renaid**, Hermione hasn't done any wedding planning yet, but I imagine that Daphne's well prepared for when she decides to sit down and get started.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Twenty-One

* * *

**March 14th, 2004**

Dinner with the Grangers the night before had lulled Theo into a false sense of security.

Somehow, he had incorrectly assumed that meeting Muggles would be more difficult than dealing with Weasleys. He had been wrong. Gods, he had been _so _wrong.

He and Hermione should have known how the dinner would have turned out as they'd Apparated to the Burrow only to stumble directly into a six-year-old hidden security ward that was specific to the Dark Mark. Theo stumbled into the invisible wall and recoiled in pain, yanking his left arm away, burned.

They waited at the edge of the wards for the Weasley patriarch, who looked incredibly guilty and apologetic as he approached, to lower them and allow Theo — still clutching at his left arm — inside. "So, so sorry, son," Arthur said to Theo who reacted in a bit of a shock at being addressed as "son" by a man he'd never properly met and only recalled seeing a few times over the years, the most memorable being the final battle and the detainment center at the Ministry when the redhead wizard had actually spoke up on behalf of the young Death Eaters.

"_Just boys," Arthur Weasley had insisted. "No older than any of my own!"_

Theo couldn't help but feel that, in that brief moment, this man standing before him had actually done more good for him than his own father had. "Not a problem, sir," he said politely. "I imagine there was a time when your security measures were of great aid to your family."

"I'll go and fetch some Burn Salve," Hermione said and smiled sweetly at him before making a dash to the crooked house.

He looked up and saw Potter and Daphne exiting the house and passing by Hermione on their way to greet him. His witch wasn't even _attempting _to be quiet or subtle when she angrily hissed, "Death Eater wards!" at Potter as she passed him as though they'd been of _his _construction.

"Are you okay?" Daphne asked as she approached him, grabbing his arm and pulling up the sleeve to look at the blisters surrounding the Dark Mark. "Shite," she said softly and looked back at Potter.

"I take it Draco's never made it over for Sunday dinner?" Theo asked with a slight smirk and Potter laughed.

He walked toward the house with Potter — who insisted he be called Harry — and Daphne, nodding to Arthur as the man stepped through the door, leaving the younger wizards and witch outside. Harry and Daphne sat down at a picnic table that had been enlarged to seat the whole family and all of their guests. When Hermione rushed out the front door, Burn Salve in hand, she made her way straight to Theo, purposely ignoring her best friend.

"Honestly, Hermione, how was I supposed to know about the wards?" Harry asked her.

She let out an indignant grunt as she sat down beside Theo, taking his arm in hand and gently pulling the sleeve up to reveal the burned Dark Mark. Without blinking twice at it, Hermione took a dab of the Burn Salve in her hand and began softly rubbing it into his skin. "How's that?" she asked.

Theo nodded politely. "Better," he said, not wanting to let on how good it actually felt; both the salve on the stinging burn as well as having her look at — and even touch — the blemish on his skin and soul without flinching.

There were a few cracks of Apparition and Theo looked up to see two small families approaching, both he recognised almost immediately. Bill Weasley, a fellow Curse-Breaker that he'd worked with on a project or two over the years, and his wife and two young daughters. The other couple consisted of Remus Lupin, who Theo recognised as his third year Defence professor and knew that he now worked in the same department as Hermione and was her boss. His wife, a familiar Auror that Theo remembered healing the cut on his head from the final battle, held the hand of a green-haired little boy.

"Be right back," Hermione said as she put the lid back on the salve and then stood up, making her way quickly across the small field where she patted each of the children on the head, made a gesturing movement with her hands to the witches, and then, as the wives stepped away, began dramatically waving her arms. Despite the distance, Theo could see the ends of her hair sparking like little pops of lightning flashes.

"Well, this wedding really is happening isn't it?" Harry sighed. "No offense," he said, looking at Theo. "I don't want you dead or anything, just . . . she's _Hermione_."

Despite not adding detail to the statement, Theo somehow understood the point. "Why do say the wedding really is happening? Why now?" he asked curiously.

Harry smirked. "Because she's yelled at me and now she looks to be shouting at Bill and Remus. They're the ones who originally set up the anti-Death Eater wards around the Burrow back after we were all attacked during Bill and Fleur's wedding."

Theo nodded. He remembered being in a meeting where the attack had been arranged. The younger Death Eaters hadn't been allowed to go. The Dark Lord had worried that the younger boys would be captured and end up revealing things so he sent seasoned Death Eaters in their place to take down the Order. "I'm fine," Theo said. "She shouldn't have to make a fuss."

Harry chuckled. "You don't get it. She's . . . well, she's pretty much staking her claim on you right now. Gryffindors," he said and shrugged. "We're a little hot-tempered and nothing gets us more riled up than people we . . . that, well, _belong _to us, are threatened or hurt."

Theo looked up, slightly surprised at being referenced as belonging to Hermione. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not, but the way that he noticed Harry possessively wrapping an arm around Daphne and her leaning into the embrace he realised that he wasn't the only one. Turning his focus back to Hermione, he could see Bill raising his hands in surrender and nodding. She pointed to the edge of the property where she and Theo had Apparated in and Bill and Remus walked away, withdrawing their wands as they moved, already flicking them in maneuvers that Theo recognised as ward adjustments.

"You must be Theo," someone said and he turned to spot the purple-haired witch standing beside Bill's wife, Fleur. "The man who knows his flowers," she continued with a smirk and waggled her eyebrows. "I'm Tonks, Remus's wife. I work at the Ministry and stop by Hermione's office every now and then," she said and then held out her hand for him to shake. He fought the instinct to kiss it, which he somehow knew that he might end up hexed for, and shook the woman's hand instead.

Fleur turned and smiled sweetly at Theo as her two girls swung from their grip on her hands. "Félicitations," she said. "It 'as been far too long since we 'ave 'ad a wedding. We weesh you and 'ermione ze best of luck."

"Thank you," he said politely.

"Making friends?" Hermione asked Theo with a smile as she walked up behind Fleur and Tonks, bending forward to grab the green-haired boy around the waist and plant a kiss to his cheek as he squirmed in her grip, giggling.

"I'm behaving," Theo answered her, raising a curious brow as the boy's hair turned from green to the exact same variety of shades as Hermione's. He took a small step back in shock at the sight and Daphne smirked at him.

"Happens to us all," she whispered across the table. "Frightening little flash forward, isn't it?"

Theo didn't respond to her.

"Come say hello to a friend of mine," Hermione said and pulled the boy forward. "Theo, this is Remus's son and my _favourite _young wizard, so I hope you're not too broken hearted at being pushed down the list," she said teasingly. "Teddy, this is my very good friend, Theo."

"Teddy?" Theo blinked rapidly and watched as the boy held his hand out. Theo took it. "Pleasure to meet you . . . _Teddy_."

The boy smiled shyly and then ducked back behind Hermione. He reached out, tugged on the pigtails of one of Fleur's little girls and then made a dash for it when both tiny witches turned and hissed — actually _hissed _— chasing after him.

"I'm going to go see if Molly needs any help," Hermione said and then added, "Harry come with me."

Daphne scooted closer to Theo and grinned. "How's your future looking now?" She laughed. "The first time I met the kid was a few years ago. Harry was carrying him through the Ministry and he had hair as black as night and green eyes to match Harry's. I about had a heart attack."

"Really?" Theo turned and narrowed his eyes at her. "Did he also have the _same name_ as you?" he said pointedly though in all honesty no one had called him "Teddy" since before he went to Hogwarts.

Daphne grinned. "Oh, did no one tell you what comes after love and marriage?"

"Shut up."

"Theo!" Hermione called from the open door. "Come on in and meet Mrs. Weasley."

"I'll come with," Daphne said and stood with her friend.

For all the fanfare the Gryffindors seemed to make about meeting one witch, he was reminded of the process a person went through the first time they were introduced to Narcissa Malfoy. Though instead of a quiet parlour or elegant dining room, he was led into a stuffy kitchen with a thousand different smells assaulting his senses, mostly good but still overwhelming. Instead of a graceful and poised witch who held out her hand for him to kiss her knuckles, he was met with a sturdy-looking woman with an apron around her waist and a wooden spoon in her hand; the initial look in her eyes made him wonder if she was thinking of hitting him with it.

"Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said sweetly, reaching for his hand. "This is my Theo." She said the possessive words and Theo noted the way the older witch reacted. Potter had been right. Hermione was staking a claim. He was a small snake that had been captured by a lioness and taken back to her den where she was purposely letting the others know that no one could play with him except her.

"Ma'am," Theo said politely.

"So," the ginger witch said, putting her free hand on her hip and staring at him with an intensity that exceeded that of Hermione's father, "I'll have you know young man, I won't hold a grudge against _any _person for their parentage or what mistakes they might have made in their youth. However," she huffed. "I find it odd and a bit disrespectful to our Hermione that this relationship," she said and waved her wooden spoon at him, "was kept secret for so long. And now you're getting married?" She sighed loudly.

"Molly . . ." Arthur said calmly, but she turned and pointed her wooden spoon at him instead.

"Living together!" the witch snapped at her husband. "Is there any decency left in the world, I ask you?"

"I know it seems a bit soon to move into the manor," Daphne said, coming to their rescue. "But the place is rather large and Theo's the Head of his House. Hermione needs to learn how to get around and manage the place."

Mrs. Weasley did not look convinced.

"After all," Daphne said and frowned, a look that Theo knew all too well as one of her manipulative expressions. It was the one she used on her father to get something. The one she used to try and use on Professor Snape — it never worked — and the one she used on all the boys in Slytherin to have them do her dirty work for her. _Now she was using it on a fellow witch?_ "Theo's been all on his own for so long. I do hope he and Harry can become good friends," Daphne said. "They have so much in common."

Theo eyed her curiously.

"No parents," Daphne whispered.

He wanted to glare at her. He didn't like be pitied for anything, but the manipulation was, at the very least, amusing and with the way that the scowl on the redhead's face dropped instantly, he could see it had worked like a charm.

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley clutched at her chest and frowned at him, "you poor, sweet boy," she said and reached out to pull him into a hug. He looked over her shoulder at a smirking Daphne and a grinning Hermione. Suddenly he remembered Potter's words days earlier when he'd asked if Theo minded talking about his family situation.

"Too skinny," Mrs. Weasley said, looking Theo over. He schooled his own features but noticed that Hermione cringed. "We'll fix that right away. Everyone out," she shooed them. "Dinner will be ready soon. Go and do something useful with yourselves."

Doing something useful apparently included setting the large picnic table, monitoring the small, sticky children, and making sure that the two tiny witches didn't harm the small boy — _Teddy_, Theo reminded himself — whose hair would turn bright yellow when he did something bad, causing a chain reaction from all the adults who immediately began searching the area for what Hermione called, "Fred and George's extras". While waiting for the rest of the rather large Weasley brood to show up, Theo joined Bill, Remus, and Harry for a butterbeer as they watched the women try to corral the children away from the gnome infested garden, where little Dominique had already been bitten by one of the foul creatures.

"I received an owl earlier this week," Bill said. "Someone from the Diagon Dispensary was looking to upgrade their security wards which I guess is what your expertise is in, but you were unavailable and since they do business directly with Gringotts, I was requested. Any reason why you turned it down?" he asked curiously, bringing the bottle to his lips.

Theo studied the man, looking for hints of suspicion. He also took note of the way that both Bill and Remus stared back at him. He'd worked with Bill on a few cases, though not in close proximities but close enough to make casual pleasantries in passing. He recalled hearing what had happened during sixth year when Draco and Snape had taken flight out of Hogwarts leaving behind a wreckage, a fucked up situation, and a trail of bodies. One such body was Bill's after he'd been savaged by the werewolf, Greyback; not fully enough to transform but enough to infected — most likely by the scratches that marred his face. He noted the way these two men stared at him, watching him carefully as he interacted with Hermione. He wondered if they could tell it was almost a complete lie. Wondered if they could hear his heartbeat increase when he talked about past experiences with her that had never happened. Wondered if they could notice the way his pupils dilated when he looked at her.

They were protective because she belonged to them. He had to respect that. He also respected that even if they didn't know his situation, they shared similar traits. All men forced into war, regardless of the side they were on. All men who had been brutalised by monsters and had their skin torn and marked, cursed to suffer. All men who bore a stigma because of that curse. All men who, despite the war, the monsters, the stigmas, and the curses . . . had witches who seemed to adore them. Or in Theo's case, a witch who was willing to stand up for him.

Remus, Bill, and Harry started chuckling and Theo was drawn from his thoughts. "Sorry," he said. "Umm . . . the Dispensary thing, yes, I umm . . ." he shook his head trying to collect his thoughts, "I've actually taken some time off of work. Wedding and all," he said with a shrug. "Thought I was going to have to handle more on my own, but you've given Hermione a great deal of time off," he said and smiled at Remus. "Thank you."

"You take care of her and we'll call it even," the werewolf insisted.

Theo nodded.

"You sure you're ready for marriage?" Bill asked. "Big commitment. Especially to Hermione Granger. She comes with a lot of baggage."

Theo couldn't help but narrow his eyes ever so slightly. "What kind of baggage is that?"

Bill smirked. "Weasleys of course." There was a loud crack of Apparition and everyone turned toward the noise. "Speaking of baggage," he chuckled. "I hope you're up for the challenge there, Nott."

"What challenge is that?" Theo asked.

"Oi!" a pair of nearly identical redheads approached the gathering. "What's this we hear about 'Mione getting herself hitched?"

"Can we throw the stag night?" Fred asked, winking at his twin who looked just as devious.

"Or provide entertainment for the hen night?"

Bill clapped Theo on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family, mate. Good luck with that."

* * *

**A/N**: Up next . . . double trouble?


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**:

In good (and surprising) news, _Tying the Nott_ has been nominated for a Fanatic Fanfic Award! Two of my other stories — _Presque Toujours Pur, _and_ The Debt of Time_ — have also been nominated. And I'd love if you'd all go and vote, even if it's not for me. If it's not for me, then I encourage you all to vote for (especially if you've read and, therefore, know better) **Colubrina**'s _Green Girl_ as Best Harry Potter. - **fanaticfanficsawards . blogspot . com**

_Presque Toujours Pur_ has also been nominated for an Energize W.I.P. Award for Most Promising HP Fanfic along with **Colubrina**'s _Muddy Princess_, and **bluecurls**'s _No Longer Playing_. I'm massively honoured to have been nominated alongside these two friends who are also two of my favourite writers! Please go and vote! - **energizewipawards . blogspot . com**

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Twenty-Two

* * *

**March 14th, 2004**

Fred and George appeared before the small gathering with wicked grins on their faces, each with a wiggling four-year-old under an arm. Both men were easily amused by the fact that Theo was present, but the children clearly needed to be dealt with before mischief could be made. "We found these wayward money leeches lingering around our shop," Fred said.

George smirked and lifted the child in his arm up by the leg, the little girl giggling as he held her upside down. "Anyone want to take them off our hands?"

Fred pulled the boy up as well, holding the pair side by side like fish they'd caught at the pond. The boy in Fred's arms reached out for George, laughing as he screamed, "Daddy!"

George narrowed his eyes at the child. "Oi, you mine then?" he asked and then examined the girl in his own grip curiously. "Forge, we mixed them up again I think."

"_They're_ not twins you idiots," Bill chuckled and rolled his eyes.

Gavin, George and Katie's son, was a spitting image of his father but Felicia, Fred and Angelina's daughter, had darker skin and black hair like her mother. Both children _did _end up with a smattering of Weasley freckles.

"Go on then," Fred said, setting his nephew down on the grass. "Go cause trouble."

"Don't get caught," George added as he put his niece down.

"Now then," Fred said and both men grinned up at Theo.

Hermione rushed forward and stepped between the twins and her fiance, hands outstretched to further the distance between the wizards. "Oh, no you don't," she said in a strict tone. "Empty your pockets!"

Fred and George desperately clutched at one another. "She doesn't trust us, Forge." George stuck out his bottom lip and wiped a non-existent tear from his eye.

"That she doesn't, Gred."

"We just want to shake the man's hand, Granger," they insisted. "A bit of a welcome to the family is all."

"Pockets," she hissed, not falling for their lies.

George scowled at her teasingly as he emptied his pockets which contained a packet of Belching Powder, two Stink Pellets, and an Inflatable Tongue. Hermione stared at the loot and shook her head. "What do you even _need _this for?" she asked, holding up the Inflatable Tongue.

George shrugged nonchalantly. "Emergencies," he said, toying with a hole in one of his turned out pockets.

She shook her head and turned to the other twin. "You next."

Fred laughed. "No can do, 'Mione. Ange cleans me out anytime I leave the house," he admitted, and to prove it, turned the pockets of his Muggle jeans as well as his robes out, revealing nothing but lint.

She still looked suspicious. "You'll behave?" she carefully asked them.

George smirked. "Never said _that_. He's marrying an unofficially adopted Weasley. You're like a sister to us, you are. Man needs a good and proper threat."

"That he does," Fred agreed.

The witch turned back and looked at Theo who raised a brow, appearing not in the slightest way intimidated by the dastardly pair. "Feel free to hex them," she told him, a twinkle of amusement in her brown eyes.

Fred and George stepped up and stared at Theo, face to face. "Right then," Fred said. "Should we remark on the fact that another snake has —"

"_Weaseled_ his way in?" Theo offered.

Harry burst into laughter and the twins responded with a sly grin.

"We could insult his House," George suggested. "His friends."

"There's that whole pesky Death Eater thing," Fred said dismissively.

George shrugged. "That's hardly reaching. I'd be embarrassed for us, Freddie, were we to be so predictable."

"Boring even."

"Expected."

"Anticipated."

"Could insult his face," Fred said thoughtfully as he narrowed his eyes at Theo, stroking his chin as though in deep thought.

"He _is _rather hideous," George said, nodding his head as he stared at Theo. "In an . . . unfortunately attractive way."

"Nauseatingly handsome," Fred snarled.

"Grotesquely good-looking."

"Repugnantly fit."

George huffed. "You see his eyes?" he asked his twin in a tone that implied disgust. "You could get right lost in them, you could."

"We object to this marriage, 'Mione!" Fred declared loudly. "On the basis that he is far too pretty for you!"

"Far too pretty!" George agreed and the two stormed away from the group in protest leaving behind a gobsmacked Theo surrounded by a group of giggling Gryffindors.

"Pests," Hermione hissed after the twins.

Despite the brief moment of humorous relief provided by Fred and George, Theo's nerves steadily increased as more and more people showed up for the large Sunday meal. He stayed either by the sides of Hermione or Daphne the majority of the time and offered to help when he saw a need, but was always brushed off by Molly who appeared to insist on doing everything herself and yet still scolded her children for not pitching in. When Pansy and Ron arrived, a screaming Artie in tow, Molly fussed over the pregnant witch, much to Pansy's annoyance.

Blaise and Ginny's arrival was Theo's only reprieve from the tension he was feeling at the non-stop questions regarding his and Hermione's relationship; why they'd kept it secret, plans for the wedding, in addition to the subtle insults over their current cohabitation. Going from the organised serenity of Slytherin House to living on his own — either at the manor or while traveling — the past six years had made Theo uncomfortable in large groups. He desperately wanted to blend into the background, but with _this _group, it seemed near impossible.

Not only was his social discomfort making him tense, but he found himself growing bitter over the way the people fawned over Hermione. Her circle of friends, he knew, relied on her _far _too much to solve their large, small, and often petty squabbles. But she also seemed to rely on _them_, or at least, the option was available. Molly and Arthur treated her as one of their own children and every younger redheaded man at the table regarded her as a sister, just like the twins had declared earlier; the children even called her "Aunt 'Mione". She fit in so perfectly well that Theo couldn't help but wonder how many of them, if any, knew about her mother's illness. Had she informed them at all? Had they noticed her stress? The worries behind her chocolate eyes? Had anyone even asked after her or just assumed that she was the strong, unbreakable Hermione Granger they'd known for so many years?

He found himself angry at them for _clearly _not knowing, and angry at himself for thinking that she needed _him _when she obviously had a massive network of support for when she really, truly needed it. No, her breakdown the other night had been a fluke and Theo just happened to have been there. He needed her more than she needed him. It made him unbalanced and tense and he desperately wanted to steal her away; kiss her back in the comfort of black silk sheets and a quiet house, make her whimper and moan so he felt at least moderately useful to the witch.

Daphne caught Theo's stiff posture but was too far down the table to be able to comment quietly about it. Pansy was caught up in her own world which included stealing things she wasn't allowed to eat off of other people's plates. Blaise, despite shagging the only daughter in a family full of protective boys, was wrapped in a protective cocoon of the family matriarch simply because he was a terrible flirt.

"When are you going to make an honest woman out of my daughter, Blaise Zabini?" Molly asked, her lips pursed and her eyes slightly narrowed as she pointed a fork at the man.

Blaise held a hand to his chest as though asking, "Who me?" before batting his eyes at the ginger witch. He grinned down at the end of the table and said, "I only put up with this little witch in the first place because she reminds me of _you_, dolcezza," and then added a wink in Molly's direction.

Molly blushed and rolled her eyes at him while her children groaned in distaste as though this were an old joke told one too many times. "You should be a proper wizard and marry her," Molly insisted, blatantly ignoring his flirtations, or provoking them, Theo wasn't quite sure.

Blaise, in reply to the idea of a wedding, reached out and took Molly's hand, kissing the tips of her fingers. "Run away with me, goddess."

The redhead _actually _giggled, her husband rolled his eyes, and each of her sons threw a dinner roll at Blaise's head, booing him, while Ginny purposely ignored the entire scene happening between her boyfriend and mother, favouring instead a copy of Quidditch Monthly that she'd brought with her to the table. Everyone was laughing and enjoying one another's company and even Theo chuckled quietly at the idiocy of his friend.

_Everyone _laughed except, of course, Percy.

"Inappropriate," was all the thin, scowling man said under his breath, but loud enough that his words were heard all the way down at the other end of the table where Theo and Hermione sat, squeezed together between Fred and George, across from the Lupins.

Percy, upon arrival, had not made his distaste for Theo's presence a secret. At first glimpse of the former Death Eater, he'd looked at his young wife and passed over their sleeping one-year-old and not so quietly mumbled out an, "Audrey, take the children home," while directing his five-year-old daughter's face away from Theo and Hermione. Since then, he'd offered nothing but underhanded comments, usually unheard by Arthur and Molly, though the few that slipped by had earned the man a stern glance from one or both parents.

The company — Percy excluded — despite being overbearing and loud, was welcoming, and the food, despite being far too rich for his stomach, was delicious. He struggled through the small amounts that Hermione put on his plate, even though she told him to just vanish it when no one was looking. When Molly saw his plate was clean, however, she insisted on filling it up again, clearly taking his thin frame as a personal project; the words "fatten him up by the wedding" may have been spoken.

"Time for pudding! Arthur come and help me," Molly said excitedly as she stood. "Theo, dear, I hope you like treacle tart!"

He forced himself not to groan, but instead smiled politely.

As Molly and Arthur ducked back into the house, he felt Hermione put a hand on his right arm. "You don't have to," she insisted, speaking softly into his ear. Theo smiled and pretended that the others around them could easily mistake her whispered concerns for words of love and adoration. He reached over with his left hand to take her palm in both of his affectionately, but the Burn Salve from earlier had dried the sleeve of his robes to his healing wound and he hissed as it tore at the tender flesh.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, reaching for his arm and pulling the sleeve up gently. "Oh, you've torn some skin," she said and winced. "Let me go inside and get some Dittany for it," she insisted and stood up, chasing on the heels of the Weasley parents in search of the first aid.

"How bad is it?" Tonks asked and reached over to look at the recently healed burn and even more recently torn skin, just above the Dark Mark on Theo's inner arm. "Ouch. Been there," she said kindly.

"Can you cover that disgusting thing up?" Percy said. "There are children present!"

"Piss off, Perce," George snapped. "Ain't nothing but a tattoo. Fred's got one of a unicorn taking a piss on his back and the little ones have seen it before."

Fred nodded. "Peach Schnapps and Amsterdam are not my friends."

"No, but the pictures of you propositioning a Muggle police horse are framed in my house," George added with a delighted grin.

"There's a difference between a drunken mistake and a reminder that we're all dining with devils," Percy snapped at his younger brothers.

Almost immediately, Daphne, Blaise, and Pansy reached for their wands, having put up with Percy's snide comments for far too long.

"Hey!" Pansy screeched. "Where's my fucking wand?" She turned and glared at Ron.

"Harry!" Daphne yelled and looked at her fiance who averted his gaze from her glare.

Ginny was the only one at the table to not look ashamed as she held up Blaise's wand. "We snatched them when you weren't looking," she said. "Percy was going to be an arse no matter what."

"And the first thing they do is attempt to hex me," Percy said, shaking his head in disappointment with a look on his face that was edging close to an "I told you so" type of expression. "It's not enough that my own brother and sister marry Slytherins, but Harry as well, and now Hermione's running off with a Death Eater."

"Not getting married," Blaise said quickly, pointing to himself and Ginny.

Pansy stood and glared down the table. "What the fuck does it matter to you if Hermione marries a _former _Death Eater?!"

"Pansy," Theo said quietly.

"Shut the fuck up, Theo!" she snapped at him as though the matter didn't concern him one bit.

Percy grimaced at her tone and volume. "It matters to the whole of Wizarding Britain. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, whether they like it or not, are a symbol of what we fought for in the war!"

"_We_?" Ron scoffed. "You fought a _battle_, Percy. We fought a bloody _war_. And you're right, we _don't _like that we're a stupid fucking symbol."

"And even if we did," Harry jumped in. "We fought for equality in the war. We fought so people — all people — could live without persecution."

"It's one thing to play nice," Percy said, his face turning a bit red like the other Weasleys. "But Hermione is a Muggle-born and that actually stands for something now. And she's gone and _sullied _herself with —"

Theo stood and the table beneath him shook with the movement. "You'll watch your tongue, Weasley," he said, his tone even but firm. "That's my future wife you're speaking ill of."

Percy blinked rapidly but then stood. "Are you threatening a Ministry official?"

Fred snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You work in the Public Relations Department, you twat," George muttered.

"And no, he's not threatening," Blaise insisted, standing up and approaching Percy. "Theo knows better than to threaten. He knows that a prick like you has likely looked over all the former Death Eater probationary terms. I, on the other hand," he said with a grin. "Was never Marked." Blaise snarled and shoved Percy backward.

"Maybe we should —" Remus said as he stood up.

A hand was held out to stop the werewolf from moving further. "No, Percy needs his arse kicked," Ron insisted, settling his hand on Remus's arm. "I'm tired of his bad attitude. S'not just Theo. He talks like this about my own damn wife; Daphne and Blaise too. Harry's right. Shite like that isn't what we fought for."

"Blaise," Theo said, walking over to his friend. "You don't need to fight my battles for me."

"Why? You fought plenty for me. Besides, Hermione's _my _friend too," Blaise said. "And this fucker just implied she was _tainted _by marrying you."

As Theo tried to persuade Blaise to back down, Percy, eyes wide in the face of two approaching Slytherins, balled his hand into a fist and swung in a panic, his knuckles colliding with the side of Theo's jaw with a loud _THWACK_!

"_Flipendo_!" Hermione shouted from the porch, wand in hand. The Knockback Jinx hit Percy in the chest and threw him six feet backward, hitting the ground. "What the hell?!" she screamed and rushed forward, pushing Blaise out of the way to reach Theo. "Theo . . ."

"I'm fine," he insisted bitterly, cupping his sore jaw with one hand. "I've just overstayed my welcome."

"No," Hermione said.

"Don't let that git send you off," George said. "You're good company you are."

"Not bad to look at either," Fred added.

The rest of the Weasleys joined in trying to persuade Theo to stay. Only the Slytherins remained silent, each noting the way that Theo's knuckles were white, clenched fists shaking ever so slightly.

"Please thank Mister and Missus Weasley for their wonderful hospitality," Theo said, ignoring everyone and leaning in to kiss Hermione on the cheek. "I'll see you at home," he added and turned to leave.

"Theo!" Hermione called after him and took a step forward only to be held back by Blaise.

The wizard shook his head. "Not a good idea," he said. "Sometimes Gryffindors make things worse with your need to make things better. Some things just need to be. Daphne, go Floo Draco."

Hermione watched with worried focus as Theo kept walking until he reached the property line, where he then Disapparated away.

* * *

**A/N**: Yay! Weasley twin humour and then a little drama. Since there's not really a villain in this fic, I needed at least someone to kind of be a shit about the marriage. Percy seemed a good choice. To answer a few Q&amp;As that I didn't get to above (because of shameless self promotion) . . . **DanceAnna**, we will definitely get some more Draco in the next chapter. Kat of a Different Color, as my good friend, G the Headmaster always says, "There's a little of each House in us all." Gryffindors aren't always brave. Slytherins aren't always cunning. Ravenclaws aren't always wise. Hufflepuffs aren't always nice. **Dani**, I have a Pinterest Board dedicated to this story where I've pinned fancasts and fanart (that can also be seen on my tumblr). I see Theo as Nicholas Hoult in my head. Most of the cast remains movies except for Ginny, Pansy, and Luna for me. **justaislinn**, Bill's two daughters referenced in chapter 21 were Victoire and Dominique, yes, but no, not twins. **Nichole O**, I want to say that yes, sometime in the future I will write a Fred or George and Hermione fic, but honestly they are difficult for me to write. I have to be in a proper headspace for it. They're like Snape for me. If I can't do them justice, I'm not going to write them at all. Speaking of George/Hermione, have you read _Retribution_ by **Courbeau**? Amazing!


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: More Draco was requested. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Twenty-Three

* * *

**March 14th, 2004**

Draco arrived at Nott Manor annoyed. His night alone with Luna, licking butterscotch off of her belly and other soft parts, had been interrupted by a panicked Floo call and a story about angry gingers and a predictably self-righteous Theo.

"Lovely bruise you've got there," he commented after Pixy directed him to the master bathroom where he found Theo sitting on the floor, his back lean up against the bathtub, a dark bottle in one hand. His jaw was slightly swollen and looked like it was already taking on a darker hue; the tell-tale signs of an approaching bruise. "I have always believed you looked decent in blues and purples. I brought firewhisky," he said and held up his own bottle. "Daphne screamed through the Floo that my services were needed and, as such, I figured liquor was a defining characteristic of our happy chats."

Theo made something that Draco assumed to be an angry grunting noise as he took a seat beside his friend on the floor. "I'm not _supposed _to drink firewhisky," he told the blonde.

Draco scoffed. "Says who?"

"My witch."

"_Yours_ now, is she?" Draco smirked.

Theo rolled his eyes. "Thanks to you."

Draco opened the bottle in his hand and then transfigured the top of it into a shot glass before pouring the amber liquid in. "I'll accept your gratitude in the form of a 1982 Beychevelle Merlot," he said and then swirled the whisky in the small cup and smelled it as though he were about to savour a fine wine.

Theo groaned at the words and sight. "Gods, you're pretentious," he said. "If I hadn't seen your family tree myself, I would think you were positively nouveau riche."

Draco sneered in reply and then drank down the shot of firewhisky. "I'll assume your sour mood has everything to do with _your earlier _company. Fine, your gratitude may come in the form of babysitting when my heir arrives and his nightly screaming keeps me awake."

Theo turned and gaped at his friend. "Why on earth would I watch your child when you have a house full of elves to do it for you?"

"Because you're grateful. We've established this," he said in an incredulous tone. "I obtained a witch for your pleasure and life support. Why, exactly, doesn't she allow you to drink firewhisky? You're drinking elf wine," he pointed out.

Theo looked down at the bottle in his hands. It had seemed like a good idea when he'd Apparated home from the Burrow. He wasn't due for another Pain Potion for several hours and even then the amount of food he'd eaten at dinner was likely to have him sick all night. The wine seemed like an adequate supplement for pain relief. "I'm not supposed to drink this either," he said. "Nothing but calming or cleansing teas and water. Can't even have butterbeer. No rich foods, red meats, or anything covered in a butter infused sauce. It all makes me sick and I . . . as brilliant as I was, couldn't see it. But _she _did," he said and then brought the bottle to his lips and took several large gulps of it. "She knew about the potions mixing up and the food that makes me ill and she knew how to bring down my fever when I almost . . ."

"Almost what?"

"Nothing."

Draco appeared to ignore the unspoken words, taking a hint to do so from Theo's scowl. "So no fatty foods. How'd you survive at the Weasel coop?"

"I'm sure I'll hate myself in the morning if I survive the night," Theo said sarcastically.

Draco turned and glared at his friend. "Don't joke. I went to a lot of effort to secure this marriage to save you. Lost a perfectly good life debt over it," he added and ignored the way that Theo rolled his eyes. "So, which one hit you?"

"Percy," Theo angrily hissed the name. He wasn't even mad about being punched though getting hit was never a pleasant experience. No, Percy had insulted Hermione's honour and Theo had been taught — both by his mother's good example and his father's atrocious one — that a man defends his witch. Percy's slight against Hermione was also a reminder of what the witch was giving up in exchange for his life: her reputation. She would be considered tainted, blemished, sullied in the eyes of their world, all because of him.

"Everyone else was perfectly amenable if not a tad . . . overbearing," Theo said, trying to bury his bitterness and anger but it crept right back up. "Apparently, however, the blemish upon my skin was too repulsive to show at the dinner table."

Draco nodded thoughtfully and then tilted his head as a fur-covered beast crept into the bathroom with them, curling up in Theo's lap. "Speaking of repulsive, what the fuck is that?"

"Hermione's cat," Theo replied, running the tips of his fingers against the orange fur.

"That thing is still alive?"

"Yes, and don't get too close," he cautioned. "It doesn't like anyone but her."

"Seems strangely affectionate with you then," Draco commented as he poured himself another drink. "Perhaps you're soul mates with its mistress," he said sarcastically before swallowing down the firewhisky and immediately refilling his cup.

Theo smirked deviously. "Hardly. I've been slipping it bits of bacon so it'll follow me around. Way to a witch's heart it through her familiar, they say."

"Shame I can't see any of the ones that belong to my wife," Draco said with a laugh. "Why're you putting so much effort into this? The contract is signed, she's going to go through with it."

Theo frowned and contemplated the question. It wasn't surprising that Draco would ask such a thing. He'd been given things his entire life without needing to earn them. Surprisingly, even Luna adored him despite all of his flaws, and he certainly doted upon the witch, but it never seemed to be specifically for _her _benefit. How could he explain to a man who refused to often acknowledge the past that they'd survived, that Theo felt compelled to atone for it? That he felt he didn't deserve Hermione and, therefore, felt he needed to work for her, earn her.

"Why did you bring Luna cake?" he finally asked.

Draco's posture stiffened defensively. "What?"

"When she was a prisoner in your own home, and your psychotic aunt was pacing above in the halls, thinking of ways to flay her alive in order to get information, or for fun, whatever struck her fancy," he said, noticing the way that Draco's emotional mask went up immediately, as it always did when the war and things they'd gone through were mentioned. "Why did you bring Luna cake?"

The blond wizard scowled. "I was told to feed her to keep her alive."

Theo shrugged. "You could have brought her gruel or moldy bread or week old garbage. You could have fixed her a stupid sandwich, but you brought her _cake_."

After swallowing down another gulp of firewhisky, this time taken straight from the bottle, Draco muttered, "She likes sugar. Anything sweet."

Theo nodded in understanding. "And our world was nothing but sour and bitter._ 'Her mouth's culled sweetness by thy kisses shed. On cheeks and neck and eyelids, and so led. Back to her mouth, which answers there for all, what sweeter than these things'_."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Something like that," he said and then offered a taste of firewhisky to the orange cat on Theo's lap. The beast sniffed the liquid and then turned its head away. Draco scowled but tried not to look offended. "How're you and Granger? You didn't bring her cake in a dungeon, but you _did _dine with Weasleys. Have you at least kissed the witch yet?"

Theo drank several more gulps of elf wine and then let out a long, loud exhale. "She tastes like hope that I never knew I wanted again," he said, staring off into the darkness of the bedroom on the other side of the open door. "Lights a fire in my chest and makes me want to be strong but makes me feel helplessly weak all at once. When I wake in the morning, her hand is on my chest like she's reaching for me," he said and then touched his own hand to the spot on his sternum where Hermione's small hand usually curled against his skin at night, "or reassuring herself that I've not died in my sleep and it makes me want to _live_. Do you know what it's like to desperately want to live when you've been resigned to death?" he asked, unaware that he was breathing hard.

Draco stared at his friend with a raised eyebrow. "And _I'm _pretentious?" He rolled his eyes. "Give me that bottle," he said and snatched up the glass jug from Theo's grip, smelling the top of it. "I think your elf wine has gone bad. If I'm to cheer you up, you're drinking firewhisky."

Another glass was transfigured and Draco poured the amber liquor out for his friend, holding up his own in a silent toast. _A toast to what?_ Theo wondered. _To the future? To marriage? To the past and the friends they'd lost along the way? To the strangers that died at their hands?_

"Do you ever feel guilty?" he asked.

Draco shrugged. "For what? Taking the Mark? Following orders? Torture? Murder?"

"For dragging Luna into the stain of your shadow."

Draco briefly flinched, the firewhisky clearly doing a bang up job at breaking down the walls that he hid behind so well. "Luna's as unblemished as they come," he said defensively.

"And yet some people still call her Death Eater's whore in the streets."

The blonde's hands shook as he poured out the next two shots. "Arseholes."

"I'm condemning her," Theo said, staring into the liquid of the glass that Draco handed him, wondering if he could drown in it if he even wanted to. _No_. No, he didn't. "She'll be a Death Eater's whore, a traitorous Mudblood, and the whole of the world will look down on her, tossing aside the reputation she's worked so bloody hard for . . . all because of me," he hissed angrily and threw the glass of firewhisky at the wall, watching as, instead of shattering into a thousand pieces, it turned back into a wine cork as it dropped to the tiled floor, transfiguration coming undone.

"I'm not letting you die," Draco said defiantly.

Theo laughed. "Neither am I. I'm confessing my sins here. I'm damning her with me; dragging her into my pit of hell, selfishly clinging to her the whole way down. How . . ." he said, gasping for air, "how can I _justify _that? How can I _repay _that? She doesn't care for money or prestige or jewels. What the fuck can I give her to even begin to compensate for being bound to me?"

Without looking at Theo's apparent emotional breakdown, Draco offered, "Cunnilingus wouldn't hurt."

oOoOoOo

At Blaise's insistence, Hermione didn't return to Nott Manor for several hours. "He needs time, this is how Theo works," the man had said and Daphne had driven the point home by telling her that Draco was necessary because he was Theo's Harry. It made sense of course. Before, during, and after the war it was usually only Harry that Hermione could properly lean on when she allowed herself to appear weak. She'd hole herself up in Grimmauld Place when she could and have a good cry while her best friend stroked her hair and made promises that everything would be all right; occasionally asking if there was anyone she'd like him to arrest to make her smile.

The thought that Draco was doing the Slytherin equivalent of that with Theo both amused and saddened her at the same time.

So she stayed.

Stayed and screamed at Percy for his ignorance and prejudice until she was red in the face and he was crying — _literally crying_. Then she'd apologised to Molly and Arthur, explaining the situation and watched in what felt like justice as the matriarch angrily yelled at her third born child about manners, about how she could still turn him over her knees; yelled at him until he carried the expression of a properly scolded toddler.

When she did finally return to the manor, she stumbled into the bedroom looking for Theo only to see the bathroom door open, the place smelling like a pub. Theo's head hung over the toilet and Draco sat beside him, one hand rubbing his friend's back, the other gripped around a half empty bottle of firewhisky.

He turned and looked up at her and smirked. "Yer not the only one who can take care of 'im," Draco drawled, the slow words coming out with near precise pronunciation. "Not s'fucking special just cause you're gonna marry 'im."

Hermione rolled her eyes. As if she hadn't been dealing with ridiculous children all day. "Shame it wouldn't have worked out between the two of you. I'm sure you would have made one another delightfully happy."

Draco nodded. "Would've made things a right easier. Especially for _him_."

"Do you want a Sober-Up Potion before you leave?" Hermione asked Draco who was struggling to stand.

"What fer?" he asked. "M'fine."

She raised a brow. "Say my name."

"Granger."

"My _first _name."

Silver eyes lazily stared at her for a full two minutes of absolute silence as Draco tried his damnedest to focus before he admitted defeat and said, "A Sober-Up Potion would be much appreciated, Granger."

Unfortunately, it appeared as though they were out of Sober-Up, so Hermione pinned a note to the front of Draco's robes, apologising to Luna for the state her husband would be returning home in, and then sent the blonde through the Floo Network, crossing her fingers that he stumbled out of the right fireplace on the other end.

Hermione returned to the bathroom to find Theo asleep on the floor.

oOoOoOo

When Theo woke again hours later, Hermione was sitting beside him, a book in hand. He couldn't see the cover entirely, but could read the words "Fairy Tales" just beneath the pad of her thumb. The fingers of her other hand fidgeted with something and he looked down to spot a dried cherry blossom that had clearly been preserved by the pressed pages of a book; like the one she was currently reading.

"Cinderella," Hermione said, answering his silent question. "Originally Cenerentola. It's gone through plenty of versions. I, myself, have always preferred Aschenputtel by the Brothers Grimm, but I have to admit that I prefer the glass slippers in Perrault's Cendrillon to the silk or gold in other versions."

"I would have thought you'd have liked gold," Theo commented, clearing his throat that still felt raw and tasted bitter from being sick hours earlier. "Crimson and gold, what every little Gryffindor is made up of."

"You can see through glass," she commented as though he hadn't spoken at all. "It can't hide anything. It's merely a container that holds what's really there. Visible for everyone. No pretenses. No hiding."

He reached for his wand, lying there on the floor beside him, and cast a Cleansing Charm on his mouth. "I hope you conveyed my apologies to Mister and Missus Weasley."

She nodded. "I did. They, in return, apologised for their poorly behaved children and have invited us over for lunch on a day of our choosing in the coming weeks." Without looking away from the book, she placed the cherry blossom between the pages and then, with her now free hand, reached for a potion vial that had been sitting next to her. "For your hangover."

"Out of Sober-Up?" he asked, looking at the Pain Potion she'd given him. "What did you do with Draco?"

"Sent him home completely pissed," she replied. "We should get something nice for Luna to compensate her for the state in which her husband was returned."

Theo nodded. "And what should I get my own lovely bride to apologise for returning home to the state of her groom?" he asked, his tone of voice somewhat bitter and frustrated. "Perhaps a suitable husband? Someone who can properly care for her instead of the reverse?"

She finally turned and looked at him, eyes narrowed. "Do I look like a fragile flower to you?"

"Your friends don't know about your mother, do they?" he asked. She flinched. _Gods, Gryffindors couldn't hide anything, could they?_ "Do you know what the first thing you're taught when you're sorted into Slytherin? How to hide your emotions. How to control your words and actions. It's a lifelong lesson that begins there if it hasn't already at home. Lesson number two is learning to read everyone else."

She looked away from him.

"I could tell immediately who at dinner tonight knew our secret. All of our friends of course, but both Bill and Lupin know something's not right with me, and not in a dangerous way. The Weasley parents know nothing, but instead are a mixture of hopeful and unsure of our impending nuptials. The twins are curious and intrigued on the surface, but there's a lingering defensiveness beneath it all. Percy, obviously, is filled with anger and resentment just by my presence, but he's also terrified. Little flinches when he speaks, and when he socked me in the face, he had his eyes closed," he told her. "They all look at you with a mixture of worry and concern mixed with a forced joy. And Lupin . . . Lupin _knows_."

Hermione's eyes widened. "What?"

"You told him about your mother, but not me, why?"

"I . . . I needed to tell someone," she admitted. "Someone who wouldn't pity me or fuss. Someone who would understand that some illnesses can't be fought."

Theo nodded. "A werewolf would likely understand that. Why not your friends?"

"They would try to help."

"And?"

"And they can't!" she snapped.

"Can _I_?"

Hermione frowned and silently shook her head.

Theo sighed. "Are you Cinderella then?" he asked as he reached out and touched the spine of the book still in her hand. "An average girl pulled into a life of magic only to become the enviable princess?"

She rolled her eyes. "Would that make _you _the prince?"

"I'm the glass slipper."

Hermione scoffed. "You're hardly transparent, Theo."

"No, but I'm hard and beautiful," he said in a tone that lacked ego, "and I'll wrap myself around you in the hopes that when people stop and stare, and they _will _stare Hermione," he said in a warning voice, "they will look through me and see you instead. Eventually, I will shatter and break like glass does and, if we're both very lucky, I won't cut you in the process."

* * *

**A/N**: Soon we'll be back in romance mode and get the couple out of their little shared pity party, I promise.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Posting this chapter tonight because I'm testing out the new laptop. Also, I got my first Harry Potter tattoo today. You can check it out on my Pinterest page, twitter, or tumblr (links in bio). Because I'm in such a good mood, we get some . . . nice Theo and Hermione moments this chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Twenty-Four

* * *

**March 25th, 2004**

Over the next week and a half, Theo learned a great many things about Hermione Granger.

He learned, the morning after his bender with Draco that she was perfectly willing to take care of him when he was sick from the curse, but she was cross with him despite his hangover and refused to lower her volume when she realised his headache wasn't Dark Mark related. He learned that she fed the cat before she ever considered feeding herself and that crossing her before she'd had her morning cup of coffee was a level of stupidity akin to being cheeky in Professor Snape's class.

Theo watched every morning with barely open eyes as Hermione would wake and remove her hand from his chest only to watch him carefully, inspecting him for normal breathing patterns before she ever stepped out of bed. She changed her clothes behind the closet doors, kept her wand on her at all times, and sang in the shower no matter what kind of mood she was in.

After breakfast, which she made alongside Pixy and the other elves — whom she'd somehow either charmed or threatened into letting her work beside them — she would kiss his cheek goodbye and leave through the front doors where she would Disapparate away to visit her parents. Most days she would return hours later, looking angry and mumbling under her breath about the stubbornness of people who refuse to let others take care of them. He wondered if she realised the irony of her ramblings.

Theo learned that she kept tabs on all of her friends and would run to their side whenever they needed her. She babysat for Ron and Pansy and went with Luna to her appointments at St. Mungo's if Draco was unavailable. She made a weekly batch of chocolate chip cookies for Lupin and treacle toffee for Daphne. She personally brewed Ginny's Contraceptive Potions as well as an extra strength Sober-Up Potion that she sent by owl along with a sternly worded letter to Harry's godfather who was living somewhere south of Surrey. She attended a children's league Quidditch match where young Teddy played Chaser, and once a week she would meet up with Molly Weasley to knit.

She also once stopped by the Ministry and put a duck in Draco's office.

He learned that, despite all of their combined friends insisting that she would always be found inside the library of the manor, he often found her instead in the potions lab which she had completely taken over. She insisted on brewing all the potions that he took, claiming that local apothecaries used the cheapest ingredients that had likely lost their potency. She refused to use his money on anything unless it was for him, something that greatly annoyed him. He'd brought it up once and earned a doorframe slammed in his face that not even sweetly whispered poetry could open.

He learned that she was fickle as hell.

"Daphne's got her head in the fireplace wanting to know if you're still planning on meeting up to plan something called a hen night," Theo said as he walked into the potions lab to see her hovering over a large cauldron, curly hair half pinned up with a quill the way Draco's wife pinned hers up with her own wand.

"Ugh," Hermione groaned. "A hen night is a female equivalent to a stag night."

"What's a stag night?"

She looked up at him surprised. "It's a . . . you don't have those in the Wizarding world? Huh. I guess since Pansy and Ron got married so quickly I never even thought about it. Didn't you do anything with Draco before he and Luna got married?"

Theo shrugged. "Sat around the manor and drank firewhisky, toasting to the end of his bachelor ways."

Hermione smirked. "Well, Muggles do something similar, only it usually involves a lot more liquor than I'd wager you all drank before Draco's wedding, as well as strippers."

"What's a stripper?"

She chuckled as she stirred the cauldron eighteen times counter-clockwise, making sure to carefully count in her head before she spoke again. "Nude entertainment."

His eyebrows raised and then furrowed. "And Daphne's planning something like this for you?"

"Girls usually go dancing," she told him, smirking at the amusing way he'd growled out the question. "Presents are included. Usually very inappropriate and since Luna's coming . . . gods, I don't even want to know what they're going to give me."

Theo briefly recalled hearing about a shopping trip that Draco took with Luna to Paris shortly after their wedding, where he listed in alphabetical order the types of lingerie that his new wife purchased. Babydoll, camisole, chemise, fishnet, lace, satin, silk . . . and a teddy, which Theo couldn't help but find incredibly appropriate for his own situation.

"Distracted?" Hermione asked with a smirk. "Be careful if you're coming in here. I'm brewing Wolfsbane Potion. You had a cough earlier and one wrong move and I'll have us both breathing poisoned gas. I'd like to not die a virgin."

Theo's eyes widened dramatically. "A what?!"

She laughed. "Well, it's been a while," she said and then added, "a _long _while. Might as well be."

He nodded in understanding but said nothing until a smug grin crossed his face. "I could . . . remedy the situation?" he offered.

She looked up and smirked at him. "Really? You would?" she asked. "Close the door on your way out," she said and chuckled deviously when his grin faltered at her words.

He learned that she could be really cruel when she wanted to be.

oOoOoOo

Theo learned things about himself as well.

Like how difficult it was to share a bed with a witch and be both desperate and terrified of touching her.

Early morning sunlight broke through the cracks in the curtains of their bedroom window and Theo used the extra light to stare at the witch across from him. She'd traveled in the night to the space in the middle of her bed. Closer, each night, until she was practically in his arms.

The scent of her hair woke him every morning and he slowly slipped out of bed to take his potions and pills in the hope that today would be a good, pain-free day, before crawling back in beside her, hoping that she'd sleep as long as possible so he could enjoy the way she relaxed against him, hand curled against his chest. Five nights earlier he went to bed without a shirt to test a theory, and after she'd gawked at him for a good five minutes, they'd gone to bed and still, like clockwork, he woke with her hand pressed against his skin.

Theo smiled at her as he pretended that in those early silent moments before the day begun, that they were a normal couple. Desperately in love and sharing a life together. He watched her take in soft breaths and adjust in her sleep. Her nose would twitch every now and then followed by a stray curl falling in her face, once actually landing in her mouth.

He grinned and reached forward, gently moving the lock away from her face, toying with it between his fingers and admiring the variations of colour in the strands. While staring at the curl in his hand, she adjusted her body with a yawn and a stretch and pushed her t-shirt covered breast against the back of his hand. Theo, shocked by the touch, pulled his hand away as though he'd been burned, cursing himself angrily for his quick reflexes and fourth year reactions. She was his witch — soon to be his wife — in his bed and he knew that she wanted him. He'd caught her, not two weeks ago, post orgasm. He'd smelled her. Tasted her and she'd moaned with her fingers in his mouth as he sucked at the lingering essence on her skin.

Gods, he wanted to drink from the source.

Heart beating rapidly, he reached out and brushed a mass of her hair back away from her shoulder, revealing the long expanse of her neck. Taking a shot in the dark, Theo leaned in and brushed his lips against the hollow of her throat and worked his way back to the space beneath her ear where he tenderly kissed her. Her soft and sleepy moans became the battle drums that drew up his courage as he placed his palm against her ribcage and slowly worked his way up.

_What's the worst that could happen?_ he thought excitedly as the tips of his fingers reached the underside of her breast. _Oh, that's right, she could call me an unprincipled rake and end the marriage contract, resigning me to death_ . . . but Merlin, he felt like he was dying already if he couldn't touch her and . . . she moaned again and Theo felt his pulse thrum at the base of his cock in response.

_Fuck it, _he thought._ We're all going to die someday._

He softly sucked at her neck as he palmed her breast, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the center, circling her nipple with excitement as it hardened beneath his touch. He breathed out sharply against her throat when she whimpered and hitched her thigh up against his hips.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Please wake up, Hermione," he said softly. "I'm a rotten man who's already groped you in your sleep, but I'd desperately like some consent here," he pleaded, his thumb still stroking the pebbled nub beneath it.

"Yes," she whispered.

Theo pulled back and stared down into her honey-brown eyes. "You're awake?"

She nodded, lips parted and breathing heavy. "Have been for a while."

"Oh, thank Merlin," he said and then kissed her desperately, groaning when she opened her mouth to him, reaching his lips with her tongue before he even thought to do the same to her. _Too long, too long_, he thought as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, surprised when she began gently sucking on the small muscle. _Too long since I've touched . . . too long since I've been . . . since anyone has . . _. his cock ached at the sound she made when he squeezed her flesh and his fingers abandoned her breasts in search for the hem of her t-shirt.

"Wait," she said and pulled away when the tips of his fingers touched bare skin.

_Fuck_, he thought in frustration but schooled his expression to one of acceptance. "I'm sorry, I was too —"

"No," she said quickly. "It's just . . ." she sighed nervously and then did that thing he noticed that Gryffindors did when they forced themselves to push through whatever nerves or fears they had, regardless of circumstance or consequence.

Reckless. She was reckless and . . . and . . . topless.

He did his best not to make any embarrassing noises as though these were the first pair of breasts he'd ever seen. But it had been so very long since he'd seen and touched any and he could immediately remember standing outside in Care of Magical Creatures in the middle of winter, watching as her friends teasingly shoved fistfuls of snow down the collar of her jumper. He'd tried to avoid staring, but he remembered thinking that he knew — _knew! _— that her nipples would be hard against the feel of the cold and that thought had him wondering what they might look like.

Staring at them now - in glorious perfection - all he could wonder was what they tasted like.

"Please say something," she said and he looked up to see her nervously biting her bottom lip while he'd been gawking at her like an idiot. "What are you thinking?"

Theo chuckled nervously. "I'm afraid I'll embarrass myself if I tell you."

"I meant . . . the scars," she said quietly.

"The . . ." he blinked in confusion and looked from her eyes back down to her exposed torso, finally catching her meaning. Her skin was peppered with reminders of the war. Small scratches here and there, likely from Slicing Hexes though some looked like small burns. A long purple scar bisected her ribcage, the end of it stopping on the underside of her right breast. "We've been over this," he said calmly, reaching out and touching her left forearm before recapturing her lips and allowing his fingers to trail back over her skin, ignoring the textures of the scars he stumbled upon.

Hermione replied by touching his chest, the same spot as always, and then splaying her fingers out against his skin, occasionally running across a raised blemish on him that reminded her of her own. She, unlike Theo, would linger, wondering how he received them, wanting to know every moment of his history so she could add it all together in a complicated Arithmantic equation that would, perhaps, spell out their future. But when he thrust his hips against her and she felt a hardness against her thigh the numeric variables in her head went blurry and might as well have been Ancient Runes for all she knew.

He broke their kiss, hands running down the sides of her ribcage, and he lowered himself to her breasts, rubbing his nose and then his closed lips against a nipple before circling it with his tongue and then engulfing it in his mouth. Hermione keened at the warmth that sent a pulsing heat between her thighs and when he began to suck she made a noise that she'd later be embarrassed about. To prevent herself from making it again, she just started quietly chanting his name, "Theo, Theo, The . . .Oh!"

He pulled away from her and breathed against her sternum in the valley between her breasts. She could feel his fingers toying with the strings of her pyjama bottoms. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

_Please no, gods, no, fuck no,_ Theo thought repeatedly, with effort and intent as though it were a non-verbal spell.

Hermione said, "Not yet," and he grinned, catching her meaning immediately. No sex. No sex but no stopping. Not yet.

She pulled him up to meet her lips once again, kissing him with shivering passion and anxious need. His fingers touched the skin just below her navel, rubbing back and forth and back and forth, whispering an unheard password that would grant them access. Hermione responded by tilting her hips forward and, before she had a chance to change her mind and break his heart, Theo dipped his fingers beneath her waistband, seeking out her warmth and moaning against her mouth when he found it, wet and waiting.

She giggled at the noise he made and to make a point that he was not a man to be laughed at, he slipped two fingers into her heat and then chuckled when she gasped and allowed her eyes to roll back in her head. His strokes were slow but purposeful, not simply providing friction but seeking, exploring, touching every place inside of her and watching with rapt attention at each and every reaction. When she let out a tiny cry of pleasure when he touched a certain spot, he pressed harder to see what new noises he could draw from her throat.

Instead, she replied in kind by very quickly pushing the waistband of his pants around his hips and pressing her hand against his throbbing cock, holding it in tandem between his abdomen and her palm. When he stroked her again she followed suit and matched her movements to each of his, occasionally trying to distract him by pulling at his bottom lip with her teeth.

His hips rocked against her, increasing the pace when his stomach tightened. Her lips parted and each exhale came out as a shudder; he could feel her tightening around him. Worried that he would lose his focus if he came first, he watched her carefully as he pressed the heel of his palm against her clit and ground down upon it in a circling motion.

Her eyes widened and the deep, burning ache inside of her gave way to a quick, fluttering promise of relief. She gripped his shoulder for purchase, still holding his erection with her other hand as she came against his. When Theo followed her over the edge moments later, he kissed her and groaned helplessly into her mouth.

Silence filled the room save for the heavy breaths they shared until Hermione let out a strange giggle. "Oh," she said, exhaling loudly, still touching him with both hands as though she couldn't stand to let him go. "Oh, Theo. You most certainly are not going to die," she proclaimed and starting laughing hysterically, a wide smile drawn across her face.

Theo smirked and kissed her jaw. "What makes you think I had any intentions of letting you go?"


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: A little Hermione POV today. For those asking why Hermione is hesitant in having sex with Theo so soon despite having had fleeting affairs in the past with Muggles, the reason is that Theo is the end. They'll be married and that will be that and she's taking things one step at a time because she wants it to be purposeful and memorable.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Twenty-Five

* * *

**March 25th, 2004**

Hermione learned a great many things about Theo Nott during the few short weeks since being engaged to the man.

She learned that when he was truly sick, he accepted her help with a bit of reluctant grace, but when hungover, he whined like a child. She learned that his complaints irked something fierce within her and provoked her into making his liquor riddled headaches worse. She learned that he fed Crookshanks when she wasn't looking to earn her familiar's affection, which she had to admit, was working a lot more than she thought it might. Having spent the better part of ten years watching Crooks hiss and scratch at any man that wasn't Sirius Black — the kneazle's obvious best friend — seeing him cozy up next to Theo without snarling had been shocking enough to make her incredibly suspicious.

She learned that he constantly watched her and that, strangely, his stare didn't make her uncomfortable. He was studying her the same way she studied a book or a brewing potion. Looking for things in a text that needed to be memorized for the future, or missing pieces of a potion that needed to be added. Theo watched how she fixed her morning coffee so he could — and did — replicate it later on. He watched her as she came and went every day, gauging her emotions so he could try and figure out how to help with whatever she needed.

She learned that, despite Slytherins being thought of as very selfish people, Theo fit right in with Daphne, Blaise, and Draco. People who were selfish to an extent, but also very devoted in caring for things and people they thought of as theirs. She knew she should have felt irritated to think that someone thought of her as belonging to them, but it was oddly comforting. She thought of Daphne, who took care of Harry in an orderly manner while somehow being able to make him smile and relax. She treated him like he was normal, which was what he needed. She thought of Blaise who joked around with Ginny, teasing and pushing her like she wasn't some fragile little thing the way a lot of men thought her to be. She thought of Draco who worshipped the very ground that Luna walked on, going so far as to learn how her mind worked when no one else could. At the same time, the Slytherins were self-preservationists. Daphne needed Harry, someone strong and devoted, and she put effort into keeping him on solid ground so that he wouldn't break when she eventually needed to lean on him. Blaise, so used to women fawning all over him because of his money and looks, really just wanted a playmate. Someone to make him laugh and roll their eyes instead of simpering at his every move. He needed something real. Draco, of course, needed redemption and sought it in the form of prostrating himself at the feet of someone his family had severely wronged, someone who, like him, was very misunderstood. Luna offered him salvation the way that the rest of the world could not.

Hermione learned that Theo desperately wanted to take care of her, and on a level that was frustrating. What little she knew about his parents had made her understand that he needed to prove he was a man by being the opposite of his father, who had been nothing but an abusive, wretched excuse for a human being. At the same time, Theo watched her carefully to learn what she needed, which was often independence, as well as the desire to feel important and useful. She wouldn't say it openly, but the fact that her parents weren't allowing her to contribute to the recovery or . . . well, comfort, of her mother, was making her skin crawl. She needed to do something. So on particularly frustrating days when her parents wouldn't let her help and Remus wouldn't let her come back to work, Theo asked for help, giving her something to do, someone to take care of.

She learned that, though he'd taken a sabbatical from going out and working, he still took daily owls from businesses and old families seeking his opinion or advice. He was devoted to his craft and became angrily frustrated when he couldn't solve a problem. She learned that he kept his office clean and organised it himself, but left the rest of the manor in the hands of the elves who he treated with respect in a calm way that left them well-cared for and still feeling useful. Hermione on the other hand often made them uneasy, though she was learning that owning house-elves was a give and take relationship. They'd give her run of the kitchen when she wanted it if she'd let them take liberties with scrubbing down the rest of the manor without complaint.

She learned that he was respectful of people, particularly women, which she gathered came again from his need to be as unlike his father as possible, but it also meant he was a terrible flirt and truly enjoyed getting her heart racing by stepping into her personal bubble in a way that most wouldn't dare, and then withdrawing quickly enough to leave her feeling bereft of his presence.

"What're you making?" he said one morning, approaching her from behind but making enough noise with his steps so as not to put her on guard. He practically whispered the words, standing close enough against her back that she could feel his warmth, but not enough that she felt crowded and claustrophobic. In fact, he left just enough space between them that her body naturally leaned backwards, seeking to press against him.

"Just a umm . . . salad," she said, purposely trying to breathe through her mouth so that she would avoid smelling the mint on his breath. "Oranges and jicama. It'll give you energy and you can lower the dosage on the Invigoration Draught."

Theo smiled and she could feel his expression even without looking at him; she suppressed a grin that tried to surface on her own face when he slipped a hand around her waist and beneath her arm to pluck a slice of orange between two fingers, then leaning forward to feed himself over her shoulder.

"Mmm," he said, sucking the lingering juice off his fingers which caused her to think back to the morning when he'd caught her in bed, moments after a self-stimulating climax where he'd sucked her fingers into his mouth, tasting her. "Always taking care of me," he said with a grin and then kissed the side of her head before ducking out of the kitchen, leaving her breathing heavy over a bowl of poorly cut fruit.

She learned that he had a weak spot when it came to her not falling for his charms. It was difficult of course, he was so very, very beautiful, but it made her puff up with pride when he'd say something seductive or with a heavy implication and instead of blushing and whimpering at his words and actions, she would instead, retaliate.

More than once she'd purposely knocked something over at breakfast in order to drop to her knees before him to clean it up, smirking to herself when she'd hear him groan as she "accidentally" bumped the inside of his thigh with her head and then offer apologies for her clumsiness. She would sit back in her seat and smile innocently while he slightly glared at her, clearly knowing that she was anything but.

oOoOoOo

Hermione learned things about herself as well.

Like how the feel of his fingers on her skin was electrifying. How, in the morning before she opened her eyes upon waking, she would lay in bed and feel him brushing his fingers against her locks of hair, over the curve of her cheeks and down her jaw bone. She would force herself not to react as she listened to him breathing, and how each breath became sharper and heavier when she moved and stretched for his viewing pleasure. She learned that it took a lot of effort to remind herself that this was so very new, because it felt so comfortably right.

She kept desperately quiet, trying her best not to react when she felt him push hair away from her shoulder, lean forward and touch his lips to her throat, trailing a path up to her ear where she let go of a whimper that was inching its way out of her. _Touch me, fuck, please for the love of Merlin, touch me,_ she silently pleaded and then moaned when she felt his hand on her ribcage. She let him take liberties with her supposedly sleeping body, knowing that if she made him aware that she was completely awake, that meant that she was acknowledging this growing tension between them and the desperate need to break it and give in to the obvious burning desires.

When he palmed a breast and sucked at her neck she almost said, _fuck it_ and mauled him. It really had been too damn long since she'd been properly shagged. The few occasional snogs they'd had since their first real kiss weeks earlier had been hot and heavy but ended far too quickly when they both tried to be mature and reasonable, pulling back before things got out of control. Now though, laying in bed in the early morning with her body still relaxed from a deep sleep and Theo's hands and mouth sparking her nerves to life . . . she wanted to throw control out the window.

Like the button of a lift, when Theo's thumb circled her nipple, Hermione's thigh reacted of its own accord and lifted to rest against his hip and it took every ounce of strength she had not to rock her pelvis forward in search of contact, proof that he was as affected by her as she was by him. She didn't need physical proof, however, when Theo groaned against her skin. "Fuck. Please wake up, Hermione. I'm a rotten man who's already groped you in your sleep, but I'd desperately like some consent here," he said and then nearly pinched the pebble peak of her breast between his thumb and forefinger.

_Say "yes" you idiot!_ her subconscious screamed. "Yes," she whispered in what felt like defeat and victory at the same time; at least until Theo stopped and pulled away from her.

"You're awake?" he asked, staring down at her.

She nodded, keeping her lids a little heavy to try and hide the fact that her pupils were likely blown wide with desire for him. "Have been for a while." _Don't stop, don't stop, please don't stop_, she thought to herself as she stared up at him.

"Oh, thank Merlin," he said before kissing her.

She grinned, parting her lips immediately and stroking her tongue against his bottom lip, silently telling him that she did not want just another short bout of kissing this morning. She wanted more, needed more, burned for more. He groaned and slipped his tongue into her mouth and her eyes nearly rolled at the soft feel of him; the taste of him. The noises he made fueled her feminine pride. As delicious as it was to have him make her whimper and moan, she had an ego to rival that of any Slytherin or Gryffindor wizard, and a need to prove that she was damn near perfect at anything she tried. To offer a not-so-subtle hint at some talents that she knew she could bring to their eventual marital bed, Hermione began gently sucking on his tongue, relishing the way that his breathing changed. _Oh good, he understands_.

Her smugness fell away when she felt his fingers slip beneath her shirt in search of bare skin. No. This was a situation she needed control of. "Wait," she said and pulled away from him.

He winced apologetically and then gave her an understanding nod. "I'm sorry, I was too —"

"No," she said quickly. "It's just . . ." she sighed and summoned her Gryffindor courage, pulling the t-shirt up over her head, grateful that it didn't get caught in her hair. She closed her eyes at first, feeling the slightly cool air of the room brush against her bare chest and waited for him to say something.

_"Oh, Godric," had been the first thing Ron had said the first time they'd fumbled around in his bedroom at the Burrow after the war. The scar left behind by Dolohov was the largest and darkest by far, but the one at her throat from Bellatrix's knife was just as pronounced. Burn marks from the curses inside the Lestrange vault were smattered across her torso and the redhead had taken the blame for each of the marks on her flesh because he'd been there by her side each time, and had failed to save her._

"_It's fine," she remembered saying when he refused to touch her, and the few times they'd tried to be intimate after that had needed to be done in the dark to force away the guilt he felt._

_Terry wasn't as bad though his eyes had lingered in curiosity. At the time, she'd felt so terribly inadequate, leftovers from her experience with Ron. Of course now she knew that Terry's lack of enthusiasm to bared breasts had less to do with her scars and more to do with the breasts in general. _

_The few Muggles she'd been with hadn't bothered looking because she refused to do anything with the lights on. If their fingers stumbled over a raised mark, they would hesitate and she'd force herself to moan louder or move a different way to draw them back in._

But this was different. Theo knew her past and would be her future. There was no hiding this.

She bit her bottom lip and opened her eyes to see him staring at her bared flesh. She forced herself not to cry as he continued to just gape at her. "Please say something. What are you thinking?"

Theo chuckled. "I'm afraid I'll embarrass myself if I tell you."

She blinked a few times in confusion. "I meant . . . the scars," she clarified

He looked up at her and raised a brow and then looked down again. "The . . ." he said and then sighed, reaching for her forearm. "We've been over this," he said and brushed his fingers against the word carved there before kissing her again, ignoring every other imperfection with sincerity that nearly had her sobbing with relief.

She pressed her hand against his chest as he trailed his fingers up her torso, ignoring her scars while she lingered on his. She didn't want his pity, and so she offered him none in return, but still mapped every inch of skin with careful consideration. She lightly bit his bottom lip at the same time that her fingers brushed his nipple and he thrust against her in reply. She nearly gasped at the feel of his hardened length against her thigh; her mouth watered and she felt the apex of her legs grow damp in response.

When he pulled away from her lips, she gasped for breath, a breath that quickly caught in her throat when the warmth of his mouth engulfed the tip of her breast. His hands wrapped around her waist, holding her against him and she felt positively devoured by the man. He kissed and rubbed and licked and then, when he sucked hard, she moaned, "Nngh!" loudly and her face turned red in embarrassment. "Theo, Theo, The . . . Oh!" she squealed when he lightly nipped at her tender flesh.

He pulled away from her and began tugging at the strings of her pyjama bottoms. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

She contemplated his words, even as his hips were pressed against her, the outline of his cock obvious and distracting as she tried to force herself to keep a calm head even as she was imagining what it would feel like to have him pistoning in and out of her. _No, don't stop_, she thought. _We both need this_. But the logical side of her brain won out in the end. _Too soon. Baby steps. Test the waters or we might drown_. "Not yet," she said and hoped that he understood.

Just in case, to prevent any questions that she'd be too shy to answer in her current state, Hermione pulled him up and kissed him hard, swirling her tongue around his to show him that she wanted him, needed him, needed him to want and need her in return. When his fingers touched just below her navel, she adjusted her hips, granting him silent permission. He pushed his fingers below her waistband and Hermione felt the tiniest amount of relief when the tips of those fingers probed at her wet center.

He groaned and she giggled at the sound until he thrust two fingers inside of her, drawing a gasp from her throat. Her eyes rolled as she rocked her hips in time with his motions, unable to not compare him to every other set of hands that had touched her there. Clumsy fumbling, over-eager fingers looking to prove a point, and others who didn't even bother. There was no wonder why Theo was nearly the top of their class. He studied, learned, and memorised every movement, every response, every whimper. When he touched the perfect spot inside of her, she cried out as the coiled pressure inside of her tightened and shook, desperate to snap open. He grinned against her lips in response to the noise that escaped her and she realised that she'd stopped touching him.

Frantically, she pushed down the waistband of his pants, looking down and marveling at the tightly formed muscles on his lithe frame, wondering what he'd look like after they were married and he was returned to his full health. She licked her lips at the same time that her palm pressed against his cock, soft velvet overheated iron. He paused when she touched him and she waited and waited. When he thrust his fingers back inside of her, she wrapped her fingers around his erection, pressing him up against his abdomen for leverage as she stroked down and then up again, grinning as she mentally measured the length of him.

He stroked her with his fingers and she bit his lip in reply while simultaneously touching him. His pace increased and he started rocking his hips in time to the movements of his fingers and the faster he fucked her with them, the tighter her body became. Her toes curled and her legs stiffened and she silently pleaded for release before she ended up with a charley horse due to the tension. He kissed her deep once more and then pressed his palm against her swollen, aching clit, and like a cracked dam, she broke under the pressure and came against him in a cry of pleasure.

She gripped his shoulder as though he'd fly away and did her best to remain focused on bringing him off as well, even as she enjoyed the way her body pulsed around him. She rubbed her hand against his cock and smiled when Theo kissed her and groaned against her mouth, a warmth spilling out over her hand. She smirked at the feel of it and kissed him sweetly as she relished the rush of such power. Of all the magic she'd experienced, the ability to bring pleasure of this magnitude to another person was heady like nothing else. Sex, she decided, was the body's way of casting a Patronus. She giggled at the many, many jokes that could come about from the imagery.

"Oh," she said, exhaling loudly, still touching him with both hands. The one on his shoulder was massaging the tense muscle beneath it, and the one on his cock was very gently moving as he softened in her grip. "Oh, Theo. You most certainly are not going to die," she decided and laughed loudly.

Theo smirked and kissed her jaw. "What makes you think I had any intentions of letting you go?"

She smiled and cast a wandless Scourgify on them both and then brought both hands up to cup his cheeks, kissing him slowly.

"I don't know whether to first smugly relish the memory of you coming when beckoned," he said in a whisper as his hand rubbed circles on her hip. "Or praise you as the Sorceress who has so easily placed my heart, mind, and body in the palm of her hand. Quite literally."

Hermione briefly frowned and then kissed his lips once more. "Body, mind, and heart?" she asked.

Theo took her wrist and turned it to kiss the inside, just below her palm. "Did you have any doubt?" he asked her.

"It scares me," she admitted nervously. "Do all witches fall so easily in love with you?"

Theo sucked in a breath and looked up at her with wide eyes. She could see him struggling, fighting the urge to put up the cold mask of indifference that Slytherins perfected in order to keep people out, hide away their vulnerabilities. He desperately wanted to be loved, to be loved by her, and was so very obviously terrified of admitting it.

"I know," she said. "I know that I'm the only one Draco asked to marry you. And Daphne told me . . . about Hogwarts."

His nose twitched in irritation, but he sighed. "I'm not some stalker," he said firmly. "It was . . . I admired you. You were brilliant and beautiful and I wished like hell that there could have been an opportunity to get to know you back then. I was very angry that nothing presented itself."

"If Draco had, in fact, asked another witch to save you, you would have said no. You would have fought it harder than you fought me, wouldn't you?" she asked him as she started to truly understand.

He pressed his forehead against the skin of her shoulder and then leaned down, kissing just below her collarbone; an open-mouthed kiss that allowed him to taste the sweat on her skin. "I would have said no," he admitted. "Because I didn't want to just survive . . . I wanted to live. Hermione... _you_ make me want to live."


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: So The Debt of Time, Presque Toujours Pur, and this little story have made it to the 2nd round of voting for the Fanatic Fanfic Awards. I'd love for you all to go vote (even if it's not for me because all fanfic writers deserve a little love). Just google "Fanatic Fanfic Awards" to get to the site. This happens to be one of my favourite fun chapters. A little humour, a little smut, a little fluff. Also, some more Pablo Neruda. I swoon.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Twenty-Six

* * *

**March 25th, 2004**

Living together had wrapped Theo and Hermione in a wonderful little bubble that often shut out the rest of the known world, encasing the two of them and making time irrelevant as they fell into step with one another. Despite their exploring hands and explosive climaxes only occurring the day before, they'd broken the dam that had been their logical need to reserve some sense of propriety in an evenly paced — though still quick — courtship. After the blissful awakening, the couple relaxed in one another's arms and Theo breathed in her scent, letting it lull him back to sleep, noting that he could spend the rest of his life just simply breathing her, no matter how long that life was.

When they woke for the second time and forced themselves out of bed after a good twenty minutes of thorough snogging, Hermione made breakfast while Theo dealt with the morning mail and then, once both tasks were completed and a healthy meal consumed, he was dragging her down a long stretch of hallway and into — of all ridiculous things — a broom closet.

"I never got to do this at Hogwarts," Theo huskily whispered as he pulled her t-shirt up and over her head, exposing her breasts which he was officially addicted to, even after only the one taste. He kissed her deep, pressing her back against the wall and ignoring the fact that his _actual _broom had been jostled in their frantic movements and was, at present, digging its footgrip into his leg.

"I never did either," Hermione said, pulling away from him and tugging at his shirt, unbuttoning it with speed and precision to reveal the beautiful expanse of his chest. "It's Hogwarts. That's just . . . disrespectful," she said and laughed when he pressed his body against hers and nipped at her throat.

"Our home is just fine though?" he asked with a chuckle against her skin. "No disrespect there."

Hermione inwardly beamed. _Our home_. _Ours_. She smirked and threaded her fingers through his hair as his hand slipped inside her open — _wait, when did he do that?_ — jeans. "Oh, lots of disrespect," she said, lifting her leg and setting her foot on a shelf behind Theo, offering him better access as his fingers expertly rubbed, stroked, and teased her. "This home used to belong to a Death Eater," she noted. "And now his son and only heir is fingering a Muggle-born in a broom closet," she said and then mewled when Theo did _exactly _that.

The frantic movements stopped and Theo worked every touch with slow, calculated movements. He leaned forward and pulled the lobe of her ear between his lips, biting gently before whispering, "Technically, this home _still _belongs to a Death Eater," he said.

Hermione waved him off. "Semantics," she said, closing her eyes and moaning as he hit a particularly sweet spot inside of her.

She was completely unaware of the way he marvelled at her, still shocked that she didn't see his Dark Mark and recoil from it in horror. If anyone had the right to . . . but she didn't. Nor did she deny his participation in the past like some might, and often did.

He knew, for a fact, that Adrian Pucey tried to have the tattoo removed in the Muggle world; when it didn't work, he refused to ever be seen in short sleeves or loose robes that might reveal the Mark with casual movements. Draco often pretended the past didn't exist. He worked alongside and was friends with the most famous Muggle-born ever and married to a woman who still to this day wore a charmed Galleon as a necklace with the letters "D.A." engraved upon it. War heroes, both. The time he was harassed in public, he'd roll his eyes as though the insulters had stupidly mistaken him for someone else. Only when in the comfort of understanding friends did Draco ever mention the past, and even then only when it seemed necessary, or he was properly pissed.

Theo never ignored the past. He embraced it as a part of his life, accepted it, regretted it, and sought to make amends when possible. Hermione, however, acted as though it wasn't necessary. He was a Death Eater, sure, but it was just a part of him that needed no further introspection. No more so than the fact that he had brown hair and blue eyes, or that he was a Slytherin or a Nott. There was nothing special about being a former Death Eater. The Mark might as well have not been there at all the way she ignored it. He wished like hell he could ignore it as easily as she did. Wished he could accept himself as easily as she was.

"'_Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace'_," he whispered in her ear as his his free hand palmed and then squeezed a breast, memorising the feel of her skin and the way her body immediately responded to him.

She grinned and exhaled shakily before saying, "_'My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting r-ro_ . . . oh! . . . _road!'_"

Theo smirked. "I don't recall asking for audience participation," he said softly.

Hermione laughed. "This is hardly a one-man show, Theo."

He kissed her lips again, swallowing her laughter before pulling away and whispering against her mouth. "_'Dark riverbeds where the eternal thirst flows, and weariness follows, and the infinite ache.'_"

"Ache?" She grinned. "I could help with that," she said and then attempted to move her hand to touch him, but he swatted it away.

"This is about you," he said with a tone that left no room for argument.

She shook her head. "You play the poet, the seducer, and the gentleman all while . . . oh gods . . . doing th-that," she said as she tried to keep control of her thoughts as he strummed her like a finely tuned instrument. "But you're not so perfect, Theo Nott. Something tells me you're hiding away your selfish side, your _darker _side, as though I'll go running if I see it." She took his face in her hands. "I won't."

He stared at her, his hands continually moving. "Not always a poet, no," he admitted after a long moment. "And yes, I will be selfish, very, _very _soon I imagine," he added and swallowed hard. To test the waters in regards to this inner darkness she suspected he had — and he did — he whispered, "Soon, I will selfishly devour you, tasting these pretty pink parts that only my hands have explored thus far."

Hermione whimpered and he felt her flutter around his fingers in response. _Well, that's interesting_, he thought to himself as he began to wonder how far he could get away with the lack of sweet words meant for tender ears and instead give verbal descriptions to his darker desires. Going for broke, he reached up and brushed the pad of his thumb against her bottom lip, thrilled when she kissed the digit. "Soon, I will selfishly allow this sweet mouth to devour _me_," he said and then pressed his hips into hers to make sure she got the message.

Her coming apart at _those _words was delightfully unexpected.

_Fuck_, he said to himself as he removed his hand from her trousers, holding the quivering witch in his arms as she came down from the incredible high. _I'm going to have to pay Draco back for giving me this woman_.

The rest of the day was spent lazily reading books in the library, making plans with friends for the weekend, and snogging in the breakfast nook where Hermione returned the favour, showing Theo how useful _her _hands could be.

oOoOoOo

**March 26th, 2004**

"You're less angry than I when I saw you last," Blaise noted as he and leaned his broom against the wall nearby to tighten the laces of his shoes. "You get laid already?"

Theo scowled at his friend, his grip on his own broom tightening as he looked out over the large field that Blaise's rec league used to play the occasional game of Quidditch. Occasional meant at least once a month or whenever Blaise felt like calling people together, and dating a professional Chaser meant often because the Italian had a desperate need to try and keep up with the witch on an athletic level. Somehow he and Ginny had both manipulated Theo and Hermione into coming. His witch had agreed only because she would remain firmly on the ground as a spectator — and his designated Healer. Theo would be playing Seeker, which he declared was a "safe" position.

"_I'll be out of the thick of things. Up in the air, looking for a tiny little ball," he'd told her when she worried for his health and safety. "It's the Chasers and Beaters that get the worst of it, I promise."_

_She'd scowled at him and crossed her arms in a stern way that made him awkwardly think about having children with her, but he shook away the thought before all the blood drained from his face and she started making a bigger fuss thinking he wasn't well enough to fly. "I'll have you know that I paid close attention to Quidditch in school and Harry ended up in the Hospital Wing constantly," she'd insisted. "He almost fell off his broom first year!"_

"_It was a cursed broom if Snape screaming in the common room was anything to go by," he'd pointed out._

"_He broke his arm second year when he was hit by a Bludger."_

_Theo had snorted. "Which would have been easily fixed had that idiot Lockhart not attempted to fix it."_

"_He fell off his broom third year!"_

"_Do you see Dementors flying around?" he'd asked, gesturing to the field which was covered by a perfectly cloudless, blue sky._

"_Sixth year he took a Bludger to the head and it cracked his skull."_

_Theo laughed, remembering that game and then bit his lip to try and hold back his amusement. "Okay, I'll give you that one, but I'm still flying. If you want, I'll catch a Snitch for you."_

_She'd huffed and pouted. "And why would I care if you did that?"_

_He'd grinned. "Because when we go to the Malfoy's for dinner tonight, you can rub it in Draco's face."_

_That had won her over almost instantly._

"Not that it's any of your business," Theo said, glaring at Blaise. "But no, I didn't 'get laid'. And when Hermione and I _do _engage in proper marital relations, as is expected considering we're to be bound in less than a month, I'll hardly be telling you any details, you ridiculous deviant. What a man and his witch do in the privacy of their home is just that . . . private."

On the other side of the field, Hermione leaned back in her seat and watched as Ginny adjusted her gloves. "That man's fingers are a damn national treasure, Gin."

"Good for you!" Ginny said with enthusiasm. "Didn't I tell you that Slytherin boys were fun to play with? But no, you wanted my brave Gryffindor brother and then that Ravenclaw you dated that last year. The one who lives with Neville now."

"Terry."

"Terry! Yes, and what did you tell me in school . . . ah, yes, your intellectual conversations are positively . . . _titillating_."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I never said that. Terry was smart, but he was hardly titillating."

"'Cause he didn't like tits, now did he?" Ginny said with a smirk. "Theo on the other hand . . ."

"Seems to be very pleased with them," Hermione said with a shrug and then smiled softly. "He didn't see my scars."

Ginny looked up. "You glamoured them? He'll have to see them eventually 'Mione. You're going to be —"

"I didn't," Hermione said. "I didn't glamour them. He just . . . he didn't see. Like he was looking past them. He doesn't care. Doesn't care that I'm . . . blemished by war."

"Well, so is _he_."

Hermione nodded. "Not for long," she said with a deep sigh. "I'm going to save him. I'm going to marry him," she said the words as though she hadn't before, unaware of the way Ginny was grinning in her direction.

"If I didn't know any better, Hermione Granger, I'd think that you were in love with your future husband."

Hermione ignored Ginny's teasing. "Have your Beaters take it easy on him, please. We're having dinner with Draco and Luna and I'd really like him to not have a head injury, forcing me to put up with the pair of them on my own. You know how they get with an audience."

There were no head injuries. It was a relatively safe game where Theo did, in fact, catch the Snitch which made Hermione more excited than she was willing to admit out loud, lest she ruin her reputation for despising the ridiculous sport. The entertaining portion of the actual game came when Blaise accidentally hit Ginny with a Bludger, nearly knocking her from her broom.

"What the fuck, Blaise?!" Ginny screamed.

"It was an accident. Besides, you're a professional. You're supposed to be able to dodge Bludgers sent by us _mere mortals_," he said in a mocking tone.

The redhead glared at her boyfriend. "If I _actually _get hurt, I won't be able to play _real _Quidditch, and then you'll have a team of Harpies trying to stick broomsticks up your arse!"

Blaise hovered near her on his broom, ignoring the other players flying around them. "First, this _is _real Quidditch. Second, I'm used to dealing with _harpies_," he said, pointing his finger at her, "and third, if you want to invite your team into our bed, it'll be my 'broomstick' shoved up _your _— Ah!"

Ginny flew straight for Blaise, fire in her eyes, and leapt from her broom to his, sending them both to the ground where she shoved his face in the grass. He'd rolled her over and pinned her to the earth and then tried to make her eat clumps of dirt.

"Weirdest foreplay ever," Theo said as he landed next to Hermione, holding out a fluttering, golden ball in his hands to her. "M'lady. Your prize."

She smirked and took the Snitch then glanced down at her engagement ring. "Your presents seem to be getting less impressive," she teased him.

Theo grinned. "I knew I set the bar too high with that damn thing," he said and put an arm around her as they walked off the field, listening to Blaise screaming behind them as bats suddenly flew out of his nose.

oOoOoOo

When they arrived at Malfoy Manor, Draco met them at the fireplace as they exited, a narrowed gaze on his pointy face and a slip of paper in his hands. "Greeting us yourself?" Theo asked. "I thought you enjoyed having house-elves do that sort of thing. I suddenly feel very special."

"Look what Theo caught me," Hermione said with a bright smile, flashing the Snitch in Draco's face. "He's a very good Seeker. Did you know that? Best Seeker I've seen in a very long time. Might even be better than Harry, and everyone knows that he was the best Seeker of our age." She was practically bouncing on her heels as she watched the blonde's jaw tick.

"Trade you a Snitch for a credit card bill," he finally said and turned glaring silver eyes up at Theo.

"That was fast," Theo replied.

Draco handed the paper to his friend and Hermione took a peak and smiled at the printed copy of the receipts of everything she and Theo had purchased on their date at Harvey Nichols and John Lewis. "Care to tell me what the hell a toaster is?"

She looked up at the blonde and smiled. "It's a machine that makes toast."

"Elves make toast."

"So do machines."

"Merlin, you people are savages."

Theo grinned. "I took her shopping —"

"Technically, _I _took her shopping," Draco interrupted.

"— to get her things for the Manor. Make her feel more at home," Theo said and smiled as he leaned forward to kiss the top of Hermione's head.

The blonde snorted, purposely ignoring the display of affection, but filing it away to bring up later when he planned on questioning his friend about the developments in his relationship with the witch. "She's turning you into a Muggle now?"

Theo laughed. "Says the bloke in Muggle jeans."

Draco pulled back his robes with a flare that Snape would have approved of, revealing his tailored denim trousers. He put a hand on his hip defiantly as he stated, "These are Armani."

Hermione smiled. "Italian designer Muggle is still Muggle, Malfoy." She rolled her eyes and laughed. "How'd you even get this?" she asked, picking up the sheet of white paper that was distinctly Muggle considering the Wizarding world used parchment that came on rolls.

"The Muggle credit place saw strange activity on my account and reported it to the bank and it was picked up by the Gringotts liaison who reported it to the Goblins who owled me this morning," he said, snatching the paper back from her. "They wouldn't take care of it though and _I_ had to go into Muggle London, track down this stupid store — and I didn't even know it was a _store _— and demand to know what had happened!"

Theo and Hermione shared a chuckle. "It's Muggle London, you've been there before," Hermione said.

Draco scowled. "Luna came with me."

"Oooh."

"She told the manager of the store that it would be beneficial to keep the white wine closer to the feminine hygiene products because Nollywhatsits apparently enjoy a good drink before breeding season," he snapped.

Hermione burst into hysterical laughter.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: It's been a while since I'd written this chapter, so going back and giving it a final edit was lovely. I'd forgotten how much I really enjoyed writing this one. Definitely in my top favourites.

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**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Twenty-Seven

* * *

**March 26th, 2004**

With Malfoy's temper tantrum out of the way, the trio walked through the large manor led through the halls by Swishy, who arrived offering a glass of wine each to Hermione and Theo; they accepted graciously but refused to drink. When Draco eyed them with a smirk and drank down a full glass of his own, Hermione rolled her eyes and called him a lush.

"Where's Luna?" she asked, setting the glass down on a nearby table. "If I have to put up with a Malfoy, I'll choose flighty over annoying."

"She's in the herb garden on the terrace," he said, ignoring her jab. "Luna and I thought we'd all have dinner under the moonlight to celebrate," he quipped and gestured between the pair of them with a mildly interested smirk on his face, "new romances."

"You say that like this wasn't your plan all along," Hermione retorted.

"Theo living? Certainly. Marrying you? Last resort," he replied.

She grinned at the blonde. "I know the truth," she said. "I know I'm the only one you asked and that you did it because you didn't just want to see Theo live, you wanted him _happy_. You, Draco Malfoy, wanted your best friend to live and be happy with a woman who wouldn't want him for his money. Someone he might actually want in return."

"No 'might' about it," Theo insisted.

"I think that you've become a closet softie and romantic, Malfoy," Hermione said with a chuckle as she made her way to the doors leading to the terrace, pulling Theo behind her.

Draco said nothing in response but held his hand out silently as Swishy refilled his glass of wine, watching as Theo and Hermione stepped outside. "One . . . two . . . thr —"

"Malfoy!" Theo snapped as he burst back through the door to find Draco smirking up at him, leisurely sipping his wine. "Your wife is on the terrace clipping herbs from her terracotta pots . . . naked," he said with wide eyes, glaring at his friend.

"And?"

"And? Where are her clothes?!"

Draco smirked. "I've hidden them. She said the exposure to the lavender bushes is beneficial to the baby and this just makes the contact a little more . . . well, visually stimulating for me," he said and stepped through the door watching with amusement as Luna stood, bathed in nothing but moonlight and the red reflection coming off of Hermione's cheeks as she tried to explain to the Gryffindor witch the magical properties of mint. "Gods, just look at her," he said joyfully.

Theo sighed. "Trying to avoid that actually." He winced a bit as he cracked his eyes just a sliver to see that Hermione was trying to coerce the Ravenclaw into her cloak. "Can you please have her dressed before we begin to eat?"

Draco scoffed, offended, as though Theo had just called a piece of fine art "trite". He made a face at his friend and then shook his head in disappointment. "You're such a prude," he said as Hermione led Luna over to them, wrapped in a borrowed cloak with fresh sprigs of mint in her hands, both witches catching the tail end of the conversation between the men.

Hermione made a snorting noise in place of an argument at Draco's insult to Theo and the blonde Slytherin picked up on it immediately, letting a devious grin cross his face as he turned and stared at his best friend who glared back at him in reply. "You and I are going to enjoy a drink later," he said; the drink, of course, implied conversation.

"Not firewhisky or butterbeer," Hermione said immediately.

"Yes, _Mum_," Draco said in a mocking tone and then winced when she flicked him in the ear.

Luna smiled serenely up at her friends. "You won't like the firewhisky anyways. He slips Veritaserum in it," she said, beaming up at her husband as though she found his illegal tampering with potions to be endearing.

Draco brushed off her words. "I did that _once _and it was over a year ago," he declared and then leaned forward, brushing his nose against Luna's neck and breathing her in, an act that felt far too intimate to be done in front of friends but was nothing that either Theo or Hermione wasn't used to from the pair.

Swishy served a six-course meal of foods that were — for the most part — appropriate for Theo's diet thanks to Hermione having asked Pixy to communicate with the Malfoy house-elves. Over a parsnip and leek bisque, Malfoy ranted about the insanity he was being forced to deal with at work since Hermione was forced to take a vacation.

"I had to deal with a house-elf abuse complaint yesterday. Showed up at the home with an Auror to arrest the bloke who was obviously guilty, and the man looked at me like I was there to defend _him_," he said with a scowl on his face. "And then the wretched little creature hugged me — bloody _hugged _me — until I had to ask it's Mistress to hand it a fucking sock. I don't know how you put up with this nonsense every day, Granger."

While Draco and Hermione enjoyed duck confit risotto, Luna took a seat beside Theo and placed his open palm on her swollen stomach. "Physical contact is good for healing," she told him, either ignoring or oblivious to the initial discomfort he had at touching the witch.

"I hardly think I'll be healing for you or the baby," he had muttered.

Luna only smiled. "Not _you_," she said brightly. "The baby. I think he'll be very good for you."

The unspoken request for Theo to be godfather was left in the air, but still he swallowed down the rising emotions and nodded his acceptance, leaving Draco pleased and Luna joyful.

Theo eagerly ate the stuffed chicken breast and vegetables and Hermione ignored every bit of conversation in exchange for witnessing her future husband eating like a healthy individual instead of forcing down food in order to appear polite, knowing that it would later make him sick. She wondered if Draco knew about the changes she'd made to help ease Theo through the worst of his symptoms. She wondered if Draco knew how lucky he was to have been saved from the curse before he'd even known it existed.

Neither Theo or Hermione ate the polenta and mushroom ragout because watching Draco feed it to Luna put them off their appetites to the point that when the small salad showed up, they ate quickly in hopes of departing that much faster. Draco and Luna weren't known for starting something without finishing it, public or not.

When Swishy brought out plates of Tiramisu, Hermione's cheeks warmed and she looked up at Theo and he shrugged his shoulders innocently, glancing across the table at an ignorant Draco who was trying desperately to convince Luna to feed him, which she indulged.

"_We_ don't look like that, do we?" Theo whispered.

"Gods, I hope not."

oOoOoOo

After dinner, Theo and Draco retired to the study where Draco sipped firewhisky and Theo held a glass of it in his hand, swirling the liquid with mild curiosity. "Go ahead, get it over with," Theo told his friend. "I know you've been holding it in all night."

"I'm not so crass to ask details of your sordid sex life, Theo."

He shook his head. "It's not what you think. We're just . . . can I talk to you without you being an arsehole about it?"

Draco looked offended. "Why would I be an arsehole? You're my best mate."

"Because the last time we talked _properly _about Hermione we were in Hogwarts and you were a prick and we ended up in detention when Snape caught you throwing a cauldron at my head," he pointed out. "Something about me being a blood-traitor with a Mudblood fetish."

The blonde looked down, jaw tight. "We were _all _arseholes when we were that age," he said, barely a whisper.

Theo looked strangely happy that, all these years later, Draco still looked guilty over it. Somehow it made it seem easier to deal with him and his past and still want to marry Hermione. His words felt like they could merge. "She thought I wouldn't want her. That I would see her scars and I would cringe at the sight of them instead of basking in the softness of her."

"I'm pretending that you're talking about a girl who I don't work with," Draco said firmly. "So, what _did _you do when you saw the scars?"

"I ignored them," Theo said. "She was . . . fuck, Draco, the look on her face. I think she expected me to reject her. Even if I didn't think she was beautiful, and she _is _. . . you have no . . . how could I reject her for something so superficial? When she's bloody perfection."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Shut up. She's not perfection."

Theo swirled the firewhisky in his glass and smelled it before setting it down on the desk in front of him. "You and I . . . we lived our lives in darkness, utterly blind to the world. She is light personified and is, therefore, _my _perfection. She is good and fair and merciful and gracious. She's fucking throwing her life away on someone as utterly broken as me and all I can do in exchange is love her for it, and it'll _consume _me but it won't be enough as far as I'm concerned. She is too good."

Draco stared at his friend, slightly shocked by the slight confession. "The woman has flaws you know," he pointed out. "She broke my nose third year."

Theo grinned. "Good point. She's also funny and has an amazing right hook."

Draco scoffed. "You really do, don't you?" he asked, not specifying the actual question.

Theo thought about it for a moment and then looked up. "How long did you wait? The Ravenclaws that used to bully Luna back in Hogwarts."

The blonde sighed, knowing what was coming. "Lisa Turpin and Mandy Brocklehurst. Did you know they used to steal her things? They were the ones that started calling her names too. Pushed her around a bit for fun," he said angrily. "After I realised . . . when I knew I _loved _her, that I was going to marry her one day, I had both girls bankrupted within the week. Lisa works at a Muggle coffee shop as a barista now. Mandy cleans up owl shit at the post."

Theo stood. "So, you understand then."

Draco swallowed down the rest of his firewhisky and took a breath. "Slytherins take care of what's theirs; what they love, " he said with a nod, looking a bit nervous. "I imagine I'll get the benefits of being your best friend?"

Theo stood. "I'm glad that you and Hermione are friends now. I really am. But you did make her life pretty much hell at school for six years."

Draco clenched his fists in anxious anticipation. "I did," he admitted. "You really do love her, don't you?" he asked just as Theo punched him in the face.

oOoOoOo

Outside, looking over the garden on the terrace, Hermione smiled. "Your herbs are coming in quite well this year, Luna."

The Ravenclaw smiled sweetly and brushed her hand affectionately over a Snarfalump plant that returned the loving gesture with one of its tentacle-like leaves. "It's a good time for growth," Luna said. "The earth takes new form and births life from the ground. All sorts of creatures re-populating," she said, stroking a hand over her stomach. "Did you know that when baby thestrals are born they're invisible even to those who have seen death? They only change after their first feeding. I don't think they're quite the omens of death people think they are. I see them more as an evolution of life. All new things are innocent and then we feed and become what we are. Feed on food, experience, life, magic. It's growth."

Hermione smiled at her friend. "Growth is good."

"You and Theo are growing together very well," Luna commented with a sly grin.

The brunette frowned. "I worry that it's . . . it's too fast."

"It's only natural to give in to one's desires, Hermione," the blonde said. "We're all animals. Humans created society and society in turn demanded structure and rules. Not very nice of it, making demands of its creators."

"The physical . . ." Hermione sighed. "It's not that. All things considered, I think the physical aspect of our strange arrangement is proceeding at a relatively normal pace. But . . ."

"He feels it too," Luna said and smiled brightly at her friend. "And I don't think you're moving fast at all. In fact, according to my schedule," she said and then looked up at the stars as though she were consulting a calendar, "you and Theo are right on time."

oOoOoOo

"I can't decide whether or not to scold you for resorting to violence so easily, to be offended that you thought I needed to be avenged, or turned on because you punched Malfoy in the face," Hermione said in a fit of giggles later that night when they'd returned home and crawled into bed, slipped beneath the cool black sheets.

Theo grinned at her. "The last one. And you could start rewarding me by kissing my sore knuckles," he said, holding his hand out to her teasingly. "He has a very sharp face."

She laughed louder and did, in fact, kiss his knuckles. "Poor Theo. You really shouldn't have done it though."

He shrugged. "Slytherin tradition. Draco expected it to be done at some point," he said, reaching out and running his fingers through her soft curls. She sighed and relaxed against his hand, closing her eyes as he played with her hair. "You don't have to wait until I fall asleep," Theo whispered. At her questioning glance, he smiled softly at her and took her hand, pulling it toward him and placing it palm down on his chest. "You don't have to wait."

She smiled shyly. "It's still new. I don't . . . sometimes it feels like I've known you for a very long time. Like this shouldn't be as easy as it has been. I feel like I need to ask permission to —"

"I'm giving it," he said, interrupting her. "I'm yours." He watched her swallow and felt her hand shaking just a touch as her fingers brushed against his bare chest.

"Me too," she said so quietly he almost didn't hear her but he did and took her at her words.

Sitting up, Theo wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly up against him, breathing in deep when both of her small hands braced themselves against his chest. "Feel my heartbeat up close then," he said. "I rather like having you near me." His fingers drew circles against the skin of her lower back that had been bared when her t-shirt rode up a touch as he'd moved her.

"Do you . . ." she began to say but then hesitated and bit her lower lip. "Do you think that . . . that maybe one day you could grow to love me?"

Shocked by her words and the vulnerable tone with which she expressed them, Theo contemplated blurting out his thoughts like a reckless idiot but then held back. No. Their marriage had been arranged under terrible circumstances, but he'd tried so very hard to make everything else real. A real proposal, a real first kiss . . . he wasn't going to just jabber out a confession of love randomly. Still . . . she looked like she needed reassurance so he leaned in and gently kissed her, trying like mad to communicate with words he didn't yet have, hoping that she knew the language.

When they parted, he kissed the corner of her mouth and then whispered. "I could do that."


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: So just a heads up, this will be the only Tying the Nott chapter this week because I've officially caught up on everything that was pre-written and haven't been able to knock out anything new since. The good news is that I don't anticipate keeping you waiting for more than a week. Also good news is that Presque Toujours Pur is almost done and when that's over, I'll likely have more time and energy to put into Tying the Nott.

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**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Twenty-Eight

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**March 27th, 2004**

When Theo had gone to bed, his arms were full of witch and his hands buried in honey-brown locks of soft hair. He held Hermione in the night like a lifeline; something to keep him from drowning and he was only slightly ashamed to admit how badly he needed her to keep him afloat.

He tried not to think about what kind of mess he would be in had Draco not been a pushy and intrusive son of a bitch. Then again, he'd seen Pucey before he married Daphne's sister. That man had barely made it to the altar. Theo had forgotten what his Housemate had looked like so close to the end; so close to the time running out. Glamours hadn't even been enough to hide away the gauntness of his face and the sickly grey colour of his skin. Back when Theo had all but embraced his inevitable death, he hadn't given much thought to what the actual process would be like for him but now, with hope in his arms, Hermione's nose brushing against his neck in the middle of the night, he couldn't think about anything else other than how fucking grateful he was that the sweet witch had taken pity on . . . no . . . had taken a _chance _on him.

When Theo slowly woke in the morning, his arms were no longer full of witch but his hands remained buried in that sweet and soft hair, though a good half a foot south of where he'd expect them to be. Blurry-eyed, Theo tried to focus on what was happening with a logical mind until a wet warmth engulfed his cock and suddenly logic went right out the window. He made an indelicate grunting noise and then looked down, pulling the black sheets back to reveal the most beautiful sight in the world.

"Sweet fucking . . . Hermione . . . I . . . oh, fuuuuck. . ." he groaned, praising Merlin and the gods and Godric _fucking _Gryffindor for bestowing the Sorted descendants of his House with a need to prove their unparalleled bravery in all things. He fisted the sheet in one hand, the other hovering over her head, wanting to touch, wanting to grab her and hold her and thrust in her mouth but knowing better than that. Not only would it be an incredibly rude way to repay the witch's _abundant _generosity, but he remembered Draco's cautionary words regarding Pansy and teeth.

There was a slick popping sound and Theo felt cool air around his hardness. He glanced down to see Hermione staring up at him with a smug look on her face that would rival that of any Slytherin witch he'd ever met. "Good morning," she said sweetly.

Theo laughed and threw his head back into the pillow. "Good morning, she says," he uttered breathlessly and ran a hand through his hair. "Dare I risk momentary heaven and ask what brought this on?"

"We're going to visit Ron and Pansy for lunch," she pointed out. "I thought we could both use something to distract ourselves with when things inevitably become awful."

Theo groaned at the thought of dining with Weasleys again, even if it was just Pansy's little brood, but then he smirked and looked back down, noticing Hermione seemed quite comfortable where she was, cheek leaned against his thigh, her vision of his face obscured by the erection in front of her own. "And _this _is a memory that you want to use to distract _yourself_? I'd have thought you would rather make a request of my services instead."

There was a glint in her eyes and Theo smirked at her. "Are you complaining about my technique?" she asked. "Because I'd be more than happy to switch spots."

"No!" he blurted out and then laughed. "Your technique is perfect."

She beamed at him and he rolled his eyes. "I should say it's a little disturbing how easily you get off on praise," he told her, "but seeing as I'm the one reaping the benefits,I think I'll keep my mouth shut other than to award ten points to Gryffindor."

"Ten? Is that all?" she said teasingly before taking him in her mouth again causing his body to stiffen in a wonderful way that left no pain lingering behind.

"Twenty . . . fifty . . ." he said in between moans, letting his hands finally bury back into her hair with gentleness, waiting to see how she would react. When she continued moving over him, he smiled and rocked his hips a little in time with her movements, something that earned him a moan from the witch and the vibrations from the sound were enough to end him. "Hermione, I . . . I'm going to . . . fuck, I'm coming!"

When they Apparated to the front porch of the small Weasley home, she still looked smug.

Pansy had opened the door, taken one look at Hermione's confident grin and Theo's relaxed demeanor and groaned, "Ugh, gross," she said, grimacing. "You're having sex already."

Theo laughed and Hermione blushed, muttering out a slurry of objections as Pansy snatched the dessert tray out of the other witch's hands. "This better have something chocolate in it," she said, peering beneath the cover. "Molly says I'm not allowed to have chocolate. I'm going to kill whichever old bint started feeding my mother-in-law these new age type pregnancy books. Most of them are Muggle, you know. I think she's just looking for excuses as to why all of her own spawn turned out so awful."

"I'm awful now?" Ron asked as he approached, Artie slung over a shoulder.

"Always," Pansy said with a smirk before kissing him quickly and then waddling away, dessert tray in hand.

"C'mon in, 'Mione," Ron said and then glanced at Theo. "Why do _you _look so happy?" Theo smirked and Ron glowered a bit at him. "Never mind. I don't want to know. It's bad enough I have to listen to my sister talk about shagging her snake boyfriend. I don't need to hear 'Mione doing the same."

"As if I'd tell you," Hermione said indignantly.

For as fancy as their dinner the night before at Malfoy Manor was, lunch with Ron and Pansy was a typical Weasley event with food set out like a free-for-all. No elves to clean and serve, and instead of a naked Luna found wandering the garden, they had to deal with a sore and irritable Pansy who plopped her feet in Theo's lap when dinner was done and they'd all retired to the sitting room.

"Earn your meal," she told him. "Rub."

Theo made a face. "Get your husband to do it."

"I can't because he's going to soon make some lame excuse to steal away your lovely bride and double-check to make sure you haven't been torturing the witch with your wicked Death Eater ways while the rest of us turned a blind eye," Pansy said while rolling her eyes, ignoring the way Theo slightly stiffened at the words.

"Pans," Ron groaned. "Just . . . I don't think he's _torturing _her."

"He might be," Pansy said, leaning back in her chair and smiling as Theo actually started rubbing her swollen feet. "I'm guessing she'd like the type of torture he'd inflict though. Theo always was handy with a Body Bind Curse."

"Pansy!"

"I bet Granger _loves _a good spanking."

Ron made a loud groaning noise and grabbed Hermione's hand, dragging her down the hallway. When they were gone, Theo turned and scowled at Pansy. "Was that necessary?" he asked.

She giggled. "He mistakenly implied that I was fat this morning. I've decided to make every minute of today hell for him."

"And you're using _me_?" Theo shook his head. "For the record, you are pregnant and that in itself implies that you've put on a few —" he stopped speaking when the heel of her foot pressed against his groin.

"Finish that sentence and I take away Granger's new favourite toy."

oOoOoOo

"And you're okay?" Ron double-checked. "I know Pans was doing it just to rile me up, but . . . well, he _was _a Death Eater and he's best friends with Malfoy."

"Who is actually one of my friends now," she reminded him. "Just because Malfoy is still a prat doesn't make him evil. And Theo's . . . I'm okay, Ron, I promise," she assured. "I'm . . . I think I'm actually happy." She smiled brightly, using what skills she had in Occlumency to separate the thoughts of Theo from the thoughts of her parents to keep herself from dwelling on the bad parts of her life. "It's stressful and strange and new but . . . it's nice. It's really, really nice."

He raised a brow. "You actually like him? This isn't just a —"

"No," she shook her head. "We kind of promised each other that despite how the marriage came to be, we were both going to jump into it and try our hardest to make it real. I . . . Ron, it's real."

oOoOoOo

They showed up at Grimmauld Place later that night after leaving Ron and Pansy's and taking a calm stroll through Diagon Alley where Hermione picked up a few more ingredients to restock the potions lab. The front door opened and Daphne smiled brightly at the couple, pulling them each in for a tight hug. "Theo you look so . . . are you still wearing glamours?" she asked curiously.

He grinned and shook his head. "Just a few but . . . Hermione's been taking good care of me," he said and affectionately put an arm around his witch.

Daphne beamed brightly and hugged Hermione again. "Come in, come in. Harry's finishing up a few things in the kitchen and Teddy's in the living room," she said.

Theo raised a brow. "Teddy? Lupin's kid?"

Daphne nodded. "Harry is Teddy's godfather so every few weeks he spends time with us. Usually the week before the full moon so Remus and Tonks can have some time alone together."

Hermione laughed and Theo raised a brow. "The umm . . . the week before the full moon is when a werewolf's . . . _energy_ is at its peak," she said while smirking.

"She means Mum and Dad are shagging," a small voice said from the end of the hallway.

"Teddy!" Hermione said reproachfully. "Who taught you to talk like that?"

The little boy laughed. "Uncle Sirius."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Figures."

Theo waved to the kid and then smiled. "Oh, you have a dog," he said curiously as a large black mutt walked in behind the small Metamorphmagus. "Is he nice?"

Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of Padfoot and she quickly stepped in between Theo and the mangy creature. "He _better _be," she said, glaring down at the Animagus who shared a similar mischievous gleam in his eye as Teddy. "Teddy. Take Padfoot outside until dinner's ready, please."

She was so annoyed that she could feel her magic prickling at the ends of her fingertips as she watched Harry smirk across the table from her while Padfoot whined and cried with his head in her lap until she scratched behind his ears. The damn dog had been at it since they'd walked in the door and she was absolutely certain that Harry was in on the joke. Daphne too. She had half a mind to send Howlers to Fred and George who might have even given the old Marauder the idea. Only little Teddy was left blameless because it wasn't _his _fault that she and Remus were the only proper adults in his life. Then again, there was a high chance that the werewolf was in on this little prank as well.

Harry and Daphne were supposed to be their normal friends. They'd gone with Ginny and Blaise knowing that putting the two of them on opposing sides of a Quidditch match would likely end in bloodshed. Draco and Luna were predictably inappropriate at dinner. Ron and Pansy were their typical selves, slightly rude and blunt about everything. But Harry and Daphne were supposed to be _normal_. Not _pretending _to be normal while Harry's godfather turned mongrel begged for tummy rubs from an unamused Hermione while Theo raised a brow and said things like, "Just because he's not a cat doesn't mean he couldn't use a little love."

When Padfoot jumped on the table and stole Theo's steak right off of his plate, Hermione nearly went for her wand as Harry tried — and failed — to stifle his laughter. "C'mon, 'Mione," Harry chuckled. "Padfoot's just making friends with your future husband. You know how he likes to meet new people."

"He's going to get fixed the next time he tries something," she warned with a smirk on her face, forcing herself not to laugh at the situation lest she make it seem like she approved of Sirius's little game.

Beneath the table, Theo reached over and put his hand on her knee which earned him a snarl from the black-furred beast who was gnawing on his steak next to Teddy's chair. Hermione chuckled, ignoring the noise and reciprocated Theo's gesture by putting her hand on his thigh.

"You okay?" Theo asked Hermione after taking her into another room while Harry and Daphne cleared plates away. Teddy, always eager to help, was right there with them, but the black dog had followed Theo and Hermione when they'd left the dining room.

"I'm fine," she said.

Theo tilted her chin to look up at him. "You're a liar," he said and kissed her chastely. "I can tell something's up and I'm not entirely sure what it is, but I have a feeling that it's between you and you friends so I won't push." He brushed a hand through her hair and smiled when she relaxed against it. "Whatever it is, it's stressing you, and it's my job to make you happy, so will you let me know what I can do to make you happy?"

She sighed. "Kick the dog?"

Theo laughed. "Other than animal cruelty?"

Hermione smiled. "No. You're perfect," she said and then swatted Padfoot away as Theo laced their fingers together, walking her back toward the other room.

Minutes later Padfoot disappeared — "He's probably in one of the rooms upstairs," Harry had said — and Sirius Black walked in the door, grinning at Hermione.

"This must be Theo Nott," the raven-haired wizard said as he approached the former Death Eater. "I've heard a lot of things about you, boy."

Theo stood tall and extended his hand to the man. "Hopefully good?"

Sirius shook hands with him and curiously eyed Hermione over Theo's shoulder. "Some good, some bad," he noted. "Then again nothing that isn't said about any other Slytherin in your year."

"I'm hurt," Daphne said in a mocking tone and Sirius grinned at Harry's future wife.

"You're special, sweetheart," he declared and then turned his focus back on Theo as though appraising him, which was annoying because Hermione knew he'd already been doing that all night. "I think," Sirius said with a smirk, "that you'll be a right proper match for our Hermione."

"You hungry, Sirius?" Hermione asked knowingly. "You just missed dinner."

He smirked down at the little witch. "I'm good. Snatched up a big steak earlier," he said and squeezed Theo's hand just a little tighter as Teddy broke into laughter behind him.

Theo raised a curious brow and looked the man over for a moment. "Funny," he said. "I happened to lose one earlier myself." He turned and looked at Harry and Daphne who were both smiling and nodding their heads. "I suppose this was some sort of . . . what . . . initiation?"

Sirius laughed and clapped a hand on Theo's shoulder. "Hermione comes with a lot of baggage, mate. If you can put up with the lot of us, you can handle her I think. You like firewhisky? Harry, pour us all a glass and let's toast the happy couple."

Theo smiled politely. "Water for me," he said, looking at Hermione. "I'm trying to cut back."

Sirius raised a brow. "She already put a leash on you," he said with a smirk. "Careful, mate. If you let a witch control too much, she'll suck the life right out of you."

Theo turned and grinned at Hermione while Sirius walked over to the liquor cabinet to help Harry pick out a properly aged whisky. Hermione took a breath when she felt Theo's lips brush her ear. "So, should I be a gentleman and ignore the 'sucking' comment? Perhaps focus on the fact that you're actually putting life back _into _me?"

She smiled and blushed and kissed his cheek.

oOoOoOo

With Sirius in the living room chatting Theo up about Quidditch or something else that Hermione hadn't paid attention to, she sat in the study nervously looking up at her best friend.

"Are you okay? Is he treating you nice?" Harry asked.

She smiled and shook her head. "You and Ron. Forever my protectors."

He laughed. "Hardly. More the other way around. Always has been." He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it affectionately. "I just . . . it's in our nature to worry about you."

She briefly pondered his words, knowing that he was telling the truth. He worried. Ron worried. Even Sirius worried, which was likely why he put Theo under the "Padfoot test" earlier at dinner. Make sure the future husband doesn't have a short temper. Theo had gracefully passed and when he'd laughed over the incident, Hermione was able to chuckle at it as well, seeing the good-natured humour behind Sirius's antics. Then again, Theo didn't have Malfoy's temper. She looked up and sighed as she saw Harry frowning. He really _did _worry about her. She opened her mouth to tell him about her mother, needing to tell someone else other than Theo and Remus, but she stopped. _No_, she thought. _There's nothing even Harry Potter could do to fix this. What would be the point?_ She carefully turned the hand he was holding so that her scar came into his line of vision and he flinched. Hermione sighed softly. "Oh, Harry."

"Sorry," he frowned and looked away ashamed. "I can't . . . it sucks remembering that I couldn't save you."

"You saved us _all_. Scars don't define us," she said and then reached up, rubbing the lightning bolt on his head. "Not to the people that matter."

He nodded sadly and leaned his head against hers. "I'm sorry. I'm an arsehole, aren't I? If I've ever made you feel —"

She shook her head firmly and squeezed his hand. "We all cope differently," she said in understanding. "I don't think any of us really did so in a healthy way, but here we are. Did you know . . . Theo doesn't care about them. My scars, I mean."

Harry turned and raised a brow. "Plural? I've seen most of your scars, Hermione, and they're usually covered," he said and teasingly gestured to her torso.

She smirked. "Well, we _are _living together."

"Ick," Harry said and tried to pull away from her, but she held onto his grip and laughed. "Can't you talk about that stuff with your girlfriends?" he asked, flicking his hand as if she could shake her off of him like a brother who was annoyed with his sister giving him cooties.

Hermione held on tight and smiled, pulling his entire arm into her clutches before leaning her head on his shoulder. "He doesn't care about them. Doesn't even see them. Doesn't look at me like I'm a Muggle-born or a Mudblood or a war heroine. Hell, he doesn't even look at me as his ticket to survival though he brings it up conversationally on occasion. I'm just me. I feel . . . he makes me feel _normal_. Like I could have a normal life with a normal family."

Harry frowned. "He's still . . . Hermione, I don't judge what he and Malfoy and the others had to do in order to survive the war. We all did things that . . . but . . . it won't be normal. People will still —"

"I don't care," she said. "People can say what they want. They can — and will likely — spit at us in the street. Muggle-borns and Death Eaters aren't supposed to mix, I get it, but . . ." She smiled. "At home? And can you even believe that I think of that place as _home _already? He . . . it's normal. We sleep in, we make breakfast, we answer mail, and read books together. I think . . ."

Harry turned and stared at her, green eyes twinkling. "Wow," he whispered. "Daphne was right."

"What did she say?"

"That you'd fall in love faster than you'd know how to handle."

She blinked away a few tears. "It's weird," she admitted. "It's scary."

Harry grinned. "Scary. You do remember riding a dragon out of Gringotts, don't you?"

She laughed and punched him in the arm. "Shut it."


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Fluffpanda worked extra hard this week. I've been knocking out chapters for Presque Toujours Pur as quickly as possible because it's closing in on the end, and then I tossed this chapter at her just yesterday and she — seriously, bless this girl — Beta'd it just in time to get posted on schedule today. For the time being (until inspiration strikes again) TTN will be a once a week update. I'll let you all know if that changes.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Twenty-Nine

* * *

**March 28th, 2004**

He woke with his skin itching.

Itching like something was trying to uncomfortably dig its way out of him. Theo was awake before Hermione, had taken his daily potions and the Muggle pain killers that were keeping him sane, and then crawled back in bed, wrapping his arms around the witch who had managed to tangle both of her legs in the twisted black sheets of their bed.

He smiled at the way her hair was unkempt this early in the morning. Wild and untamed and looking like the aftermath of a perfectly decent round of shagging. They hadn't, of course. Not yet. But that didn't mean that fingers and hands and mouths — _her _mouth — hadn't thoroughly explored one another with desperation and need.

His skin itched.

Itched for her like a scratch he'd never be rid of.

He watched as she tried to move within the tangles of the sheets, restricted by her own tossing and turning that had forced the black silk into tight ropes, pinning her thighs and waist to the bed, trapped there by the force of her own body. She looked like a sweet little animal, caught in an unsuspecting tangle of weeds, and he, the hungry predator, watching her. Waiting.

Tempted to grab the sheets and tug, pull her closer to him where he wanted to rip away her clothing and enjoy her the way a normal fiance would, Theo leaned forward and tenderly kissed her awake. "Hermione," he whispered as he gently pulled her free of the constricting sheets. "Wake up, love."

After quick — and separate — showers, Theo made his way down to the breakfast nook, waiting for Pixy to bring breakfast. He sipped at his morning tea, something he was glad to be able to enjoy again thanks to Hermione's efforts with his medication, and looked up at the sound of the door opening. Instead of his head house-elf, his future bride walked through carrying their morning meal, a single bowl of . . . strawberries? And . . . and a jar of . . . "Honey?"

"Yes, dear?" Hermione replied with a coy smirk and the itching sensation began rolling beneath his skin again. The witch sat down, not on the seat beside him, but on the table in front of him.

Theo moved his chair back a bit to allow her room, watching with a heated stare as she pulled herself up and sat, adjusting the long faded t-shirt of his that she slept in. The shirt was so large on her that it usually came to the middle of her thighs but sitting up as she was, it barely covered her arse. His gaze lingered over the jar of honey, noting that it was the same colour as a variety of strands in her hair, and a touch darker than the sun-kissed skin of her thighs.

She moved to cross her legs and he let out a soft moan.

She wasn't wearing knickers.

"Hungry?" she asked.

Theo winced and placed his hands in his lap. "You've no idea, love."

She smiled at him, a honey-covered strawberry between two fingers, the open jar of syrupy nectar in the other hand. She brought the fruit to her lips, licking away at the dripping, sticky fluid, and bit down. The devious glint in her eye made him wonder if either Daphne or Ginny had given her this idea. He watched in near perfect silence as she continued to feed herself, staring at him. She was tempting, too tempting, and he knew she was doing it all on purpose.

Who knew Gryffindors could play games like this?

Theo grinned. "You're a funny little witch, aren't you?" he asked as she dragged her tongue across her own bottom lip, licking away red juice that lingered behind from the berry she'd recently devoured. When she raised an innocent brow at him as though she had no idea what he was talking about, he clarified. "Are you trying to tease? Lure out the sweet man with sweet things?" he asked, gesturing to the breakfast. "Because I never thought of you as a woman to overindulge, Hermione," he added and his earthly blue eyes darkened to storm clouds.

He smiled when he heard her breath catch.

"Maybe," she said and swallowed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I've had a bit too much sweet this morning."

He watched her breathe. In and out. Quick and yet heavy breaths that moved the fabric of his t-shirt, rubbing the faded lettering up and down and across her skin. "What would you like instead, pretty witch?" he asked, his voice deep and husky as he stood slowly, stepping the short distance forward, enjoying the fact that her legs uncrossed automatically as he stepped between them, moving like a stalking version of the lion that _she _was supposed to be, instead of the little lamb she was right then. "Sour? Spicy? Salty?"

He grinned when he saw her eyes drop to his belt.

"Yes," she breathed. "Anything you want to feed me."

Theo chuckled, feeling that itch again. "Who said _I_ would be feeding _you_?" he asked and felt a surge of adrenaline when she looked up at him, almost panicked as his hand snaked up between her breasts and pushed her backward while gripping her thigh with the other, smiling when she lay flat against the table, limbs shaking in trepidation.

He kissed the inside of her knee, even as his hands drew circles on her hips, a subtle and silent way of communicating that he had every intention of moving north, but at _his _leisure. He kissed softly as he moved, only pausing once to remember that she didn't want sweet. That was the whole point, wasn't it? And so, without warning, he roughly nipped the inside of her thigh and sucked hard enough to leave a mark. No one would know it was there but them, and he had every intention of reminding her of it, up until it faded, at which point he planned on duplicating the mark.

_His._

She was his.

She'd signed a bloody contract saying as much and he silently promised to remind her at every opportunity. Not of the contract, no, but of the by-product that came with purposely tying herself to him. There was darkness, yes, she'd seen it and said so herself, saying that she wasn't afraid and wanted to see him, all of him. She'd insisted that all darkness wasn't evil and he remembered the way her eyes lusted over when he'd spoken filthy words instead of poetry in her ear. She understood. Understood the parts of him he kept from view of everyone else. She understood and desired. Wanted him — _all of him _— knowing that he'd never hurt her. Not really. And not unless she asked very, _very _nicely.

He pushed her thighs apart and listened closely to her anticipatory inhale. "Sweet witch," he said, letting his heavy breath ghost across her bared, wet center. "You," he added in a whisper, staring into the heat of her, set like a feast before him, on their table, "are so very, very pretty."

She whimpered and he chuckled and then groaned as her back arched off the table the very second that he lashed his tongue against her seam.

Hermione spent the early morning thrashing and whimpering, crying out on the table as he bit his fingers into her thighs and hips to hold her in place, even as she shook and shivered and bucked against his mouth, crying out things that he was certain she'd be embarrassed about later, praising him and Merlin and Circe and a handful of deities he was fairly certain didn't exist.

Suckling at her clit like a babe at a breast while she cried and came against his mouth, Theo was certain that if marrying her, _bonding _himself to her, wasn't the key to preventing his death, the very taste of her would be life sustaining on its own.

In the aftermath, Hermione took several minutes to catch her breath while he stroked his fingers lazily against her calf, leaning his cheek against the inside of her knee. "Can . . ." she whimpered. "Can we just stay here all day?" she asked, letting out a satisfied and slightly delirious chuckle that put a smug grin on Theo's face.

"No can do, love," he said.

Hermione pouted. "Why not?"

He kissed her knee again and smiled against the skin. "Because your parents and the Weasleys are coming for dinner," he reminded her, laughing when he heard her curse under her breath for having forgotten. "And you need a bath," he added, gesturing to the jar of honey that had tipped over about ten minutes earlier due to her thrashing, spilling out onto the table and soaking into the bunched up fabric of her t-shirt.

oOoOoOo

The itch didn't go away.

Not with a breakfast of Hermione, not with a hot shower after, not with potions or with an _actual _meal that came later in the middle of the day. And he was stupid for not telling her, but she was stressed about the dinner so he kept it all to himself, especially when the itch starting turning into a deep ache.

They'd offered to connect the Floo for Hermione's parents, that or Apparate, but with Helen's illness being unpredictable, she and Richard elected to drive, regardless the distance. Because of the inconvenience, Theo and Hermione insisted that they stay the night and Pixy was more than happy to set up a suite for the couple in the same wing as Hermione and Theo.

They wanted a meeting of the families before the wedding; a chance for everyone to get to know one another. Since Theo's mother was dead and his father was in Azkaban, he had no family of his own save perhaps for his friends, but there was no way in hell they were going to allow Draco and Luna to mingle in close quarters with Hermione's parents. Some of the other couples could have been more appropriate, but in the end, Theo extended an invitation to dinner to the Weasley parents, knowing that they were just as involved with raising Hermione as well . . . Hogwarts was.

Helen and Richard arrived and excitedly asked for a tour of the house as though it were a museum of sorts, clearly having not been properly prepared for such a large home. They had said Manor, but the word didn't adequately describe the place.

Arthur and Molly Weasley were less impressed and the witch had even said, "What do you even do with all this space?" with a perplexing look on her face as though she just didn't understand. She was, at least, nice about it, even when Helen Granger squealed like a schoolgirl when Hermione showed them all the library.

Dinner was already set out, family style like the Weasleys often had, by the elves prior to everyone arriving in the dining room. Hermione didn't want Arthur and Molly to see any of the elves, though she still planned on introducing her parents to a few during their stay over, in an attempt to see if Helen would accept the offer of help. Theo had already prepped Tick, an older elf who specialised in cleaning and cooking, telling him the situation and smiling proudly when the elf bowed and said, "It would honour Tick to serve the Mistress's parents."

They sat around the table, smiling and laughing and Theo reached out and took Hermione's hand as the two sets of parents toasted the couple, Molly stopping to chuckle at Arthur who was positively glowing with joy over drinking the Muggle beer that Hermione's father had brought with him.

"This is so very lovely, Hermione," Molly said. "Though the two of you didn't have to go to the trouble. I would have been more than happy to have everyone over to our house for dinner. A wedding to plan . . . you shouldn't have fussed over us."

"Yes, they should," Richard said with a laugh. "The boy's marrying my only daughter. I could use a little fussing," he said and everyone laughed.

Theo smiled and kissed Hermione's knuckles, overjoyed to see her so relaxed with everyone laughing and smiling and talking about simple things like how moist the chicken was or the process of brewing Muggle beer or wedding plans — okay the wedding conversation was less than simple, but it still wasn't awful.

"Where will the wedding be?" Helen asked.

"Here," Hermione said. "I was thinking in the garden actually," she added with a soft, almost shy smile.

"What's that about?" Helen asked, pointing to the blush on Hermione's cheeks.

"Nothing," the little witch said, brushing off her mother. "It's just . . ."

Theo smirked. "The garden is special," he said. "We had our first kiss after a walk around it." Of course, it hadn't _exactly _been a walk around the garden, but more of Hermione collapsing into his arms in a fit of sobs, standing while rain poured down on them in thick sheets.

"Our first _real _kiss," Hermione muttered and Theo laughed.

It was toward the end of the meal when Theo felt the itch again, this time more painful than before and he struggled to keep it from being noticed by everyone, Hermione specifically. Thankfully, she was perfectly distracted by her mother who was happily telling Molly and Arthur stories of their days at University, the other couple completely enthralled in the tales.

Someone cleared their throat and Theo turned to see Pixy standing in the doorway looking embarrassed to be disrupting the dinner. "Master?"

Helen made a squeaking sound at the sight of the creature and Molly let out a loud sigh of obvious disapproval. Hermione just looked embarrassed in general and offered an apologetic glance to everyone at the table before turning her attention to Theo and the elf. "It's all right," she said. "Yes, we have elves here and they are treated quite well," she said, more to Molly and Arthur than anyone else. "I've insisted that they let me help around the house, of course," she added and Molly smiled in approval.

"Is something wrong, Pixy?" Theo asked.

The elf nervously wrung her hands together. "Pixy is sorry to be interrupting," she said, stepping into the room and glancing at the other couples, her large eyes lingering on Hermione's parents in something akin to awe before returning to Theo. "Master and Mistress has several letters."

Theo sighed. "I'll take care of them later, Pixy."

The elf cleared her throat again. "Missy Pansy Wheezy sent a red one."

He groaned.

"Pansy sent us a Howler?" Hermione asked, eyes wide.

Theo sighed. "She does this all the time."

Molly jumped up. "Oh goodness, is it the baby?" she asked, panicked. "Do we need to get to St. Mungo's? It's too early though! I told that girl she should _not _be eating celery!"

"I'm sure everything is fine, dear," Arthur said, trying to calm his wife. "She's given birth before."

"Let's not jump to any conclusions," Hermione said. "Just . . . Pixy please bring the letter here," she asked, not thinking of the fact that her parents had never seen a Howler before; instead, she was only worried that Mrs. Weasley might have a heart attack if she didn't know what was happening as soon as possible.

The elf snapped her fingers and the shaking red envelope appeared on the table in front of them all. Before it had the chance to explode, Theo tore open the envelope and then winced as Pansy's screeching voice boomed out of it like a Sonorus Charm.

"HAVE YOU SEEN IT?! THEO! YOU'RE IN THE BLOODY EVENING PROPHET AND I SWEAR TO MERLIN AND MORGANA AND FUCKING SALAZAR HIMSELF I WILL FIND WHICHEVER ONE OF THEM DID IT AND FLAY THEM ALIVE!"

Helen and Richard stared at the sight of the screaming envelope, eyes wide.

"HOW DARE THEY IMPLY THAT … No, Ronald, I don't know where your bloody socks are, can't you see I'm busy? . . . I'm writing a fucking letter to Theo, what do you think I'm doing? . . . Because I don't know where the regular parchment is and my feet are too fucking swollen to get up and search the damn house for it, _that's _why! All I could find was the Howler paper . . . Yes, I realise that it's a bit rude to just randomly send Howlers all the time and you know what else is rude? Questioning the mother of your child while she's upset because her feet and back hurt and your baby has its foot stuck in her rib cage and the Prophet is being run by a bunch of fucking cunts —"

Molly gasped and fell into Arthur's arms.

Helen let out a loud laugh and immediately covered her mouth.

"— who think it's perfectly acceptable to . . . oh, I don't have time for this. THEO, HERMIONE, I'LL BE SENDING ONE OF THESE TO THE PAPER, YOU CAN BET ON THAT!"

Silence filled the dining room.

Theo's headache returned in full force.

"Sooo . . . that was Pansy," Hermione said, looking at her parents who looked like they would have been laughing if Molly and Arthur didn't look so horrified.

Theo sighed. "Pixy, please bring us the bloody paper."

The little elf obeyed with a heavy sigh and brought a copy of the paper and also a stack of letters, handing them to Hermione.

"All our friends read it before we did," Hermione said as she flipped through each of them. "Daphne said Harry tried to Floo call us but forgot that we closed it to give us privacy for tonight's dinner," she added with a sigh. "And Ginny is threatening to stand outside the Daily Prophet offices and protest." She purposely left out the fact that the redhead had said she would do it naked, to draw as much attention as possible. Molly looked to be upset enough. "To be fair, I'm surprised it took them this long. I knew someone had taken that photo of us that day we went to Diagon Alley to get things set up at Gringotts," she said as though the idea of the _Evening Prophet _didn't bother her in the slightest. She was, in fact, expecting it.

Theo, however, was growling — _actually _growling — as he stared at the paper in his hands.

Hermione reached over and pried the _Prophet _from his hands, looking down at the title that spread across the front page:

'_HARLOT HERMIONE TO MARRY DEATH EATER TO UPSTAGE POTTER WEDDING'_


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Posting this chapter tonight instead of tomorrow morning because my dog had puppies today and I'm running on 3 hours of sleep. I imagine when I do eventually crash, it's going to be for a long while LOL.

Q&amp;As - **Pagan Ianthe**, Theo's itching is a symptom of his illness. **HiHelloGoodbye**, I think if the _Daily Prophet_ managed to stay afloat after printing all the lies about Harry during 5th year, they'd probably last throughout the rest of the war and beyond. I think because the Wizarding World is so small by comparison, it means that there's not much in the way of competition for press.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Thirty

* * *

**March 28th, 2004**

Her parents were livid. Arthur was shaking his head in disappointment as though the _Daily Prophet_ was just another one of his children that had let him down one too many times. Molly was making choking sounds, eyes wide as she took in the word "harlot", naively shocked that such language was being used in the press.

Theo was enraged and looked like the true Death Eater the world thought he was.

The Death Eater he, technically, had been.

Only Hermione seemed to not care that much as she folded the paper in half and tossed it into the center of the table, reaching for the glass of water in front of her. "Oh, Molly, I've been meaning to ask if you'd be willing to part with some of your recipes for the wedding? I know you'll want to help in some way, but cooking for everyone would just be too much. I would, however, love the recipe for that cake you made last year for Ginny's birthday party, it was heavenly."

Everyone looked up from the paper, gaping at Hermione.

"What?" she asked.

"What?!" Molly shrieked.

"Are you truly not going to do anything about this?" Helen asked, shocked. "Hermione, this awful paper called you —"

"A harlot, yes, I can read," Hermione shrugged. "It's hardly the worst thing they've ever referred to me as, and at least it's consistent," she added with a slightly bitter tone. "The _Daily Prophet_ has been making me out to be a gold digging, fame seeking . . ." she paused to look at Molly before correcting her language to something more . . . palatable, "scarlet woman," she said and Molly still gasped, "since I was fourteen."

"What do you mean since you were fourteen?" Richard angrily asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, desperate for a glass of wine but refusing to drink it in front of Theo who was still forbidden from partaking, though he looked like he was due a shot of firewhisky himself. She reached over and took his hand in hers, hoping to calm him. All the action did, however, was make him cling tightly to her fingers as though she were the only thing keeping him from committing homicide.

"Rita Skeeter used to write awful things about me. It started during the Triwizard Tournament when she thought I was Harry's girlfriend, and so when I went to the Yule Ball with Viktor, it became a scandalous love triangle where I was misleading both famous wizards," she said in a slightly sarcastic voice as though she were mockingly narrating the audiobook for a bodice ripper.

"After the war, it was all about how I broke Harry's and then Ron's heart by apparently playing them against one another, never mind the things they insinuated we did while on the run from Voldemort," she hissed, temper flaring a bit at the memory. "Frankly, I'm shocked that this is the worst of it. The _Daily Prophet_ tried to tell the Wizarding World that I was having an affair with Draco Malfoy the day after his wedding to Luna, for Merlin's sake," she scoffed. "I'm surprised the only thing they came up with was that I'm marrying Theo to upstage Harry's engagement to Daphne."

The parents all sat, silently stewing over the article while Hermione picked at the remaining food on her plate with one hand, the other still gripped in Theo's.

"Is there nothing you can do?" Richard asked, face still red with anger.

Hermione shook her head. "The reporter that used to spread lies about me hasn't written a word since just after the war. She called my bluff and she really, _really _shouldn't have," Hermione said, her eyes slightly dark. "I had information on her and had been using it as leverage to keep mine, Harry, and Ron's names out of the papers. She was the one who wrote the first article after the war and she ended up serving a year in Azkaban when I turned her into the Ministry for being an unregistered Animagus."

"So then who is writing all these awful things about you?" Molly asked, reaching for the paper, noting that there was no name attributed to the article. "Just anonymous? This is ridiculous. Arthur, I'm cancelling my subscription. This is the last straw!"

Hermione smiled at the woman who had made the threat plenty of times over the years, only to cave and buy the paper again in order to follow up on other bits of news unrelated to gossip. "I know who it is," Hermione said. "The reporter is an old rival from school who's still bitter about a few things," she said. "And I know her source as well. I'll write a few letters tomorrow and see what I can't do about fixing this. We'd planned to announce the engagement soon anyways," she said, turning to Theo. "I think we'll speak with _Witch Weekly_ instead though, don't you agree?"

His eyes were closed and he was forcefully taking in slow, deep breaths.

"Theo?" Hermione whispered. "We knew this would happen."

He shook his head. "I knew they would say things about me . . . and maybe they'd . . ." he recalled talking to Draco, memories of hearing his friend's wife referred to as a Death Eater's whore. Hermione was right. They'd expected this. "I wasn't prepared," he admitted.

Hermione frowned. "It means nothing to me."

"It means something to _me_," Theo said and stood. "If you'll all forgive me, I need to step away for a . . . I need to step away." He offered apologetic looks to all of their guests and then kissed Hermione's hand before pushing away from his chair and leaving the room.

Hermione wanted to go after him, but a look from Molly, and her mother's hand grasping her own kept her in place. "Give him time, dear," Molly encouraged.

Meanwhile, Richard had retrieved the paper, reading more than the headline. Every few sentences he would scoff and roll his eyes. "Is there _any _amount of truth in this?" he asked, looking up to meet his daughter's gaze.

"Perhaps," Hermione said. "Theo _was _a Death Eater," she confirmed. "Everything else, I imagine, is speculation. And the bit about wanting to steal attention away from Harry's wedding . . . that's pure nonsense."

Molly nodded her agreement. "Now that I think about it, I do remember there being an issue with Harry and Daphne in the paper after their engagement. There was some . . ." and Molly turned a bit red. "Hogwash gossip being spread that Daphne was in a family way," she whispered.

Helen and Richard stared at the woman, both holding back smirks, clearly amused by her old fashioned way with words.

"Pixy," Hermione turned to the elf who was still lingering by the door. "Would you be a dear and bring us some tea? And maybe take some to Theo as well?"

Pixy smiled and nodded her large head, vanishing away and reappearing a moment later with a large silver tray, full tea service upon it with scones and clotted cream as well. "Would Mistress like Pixy to serve?" she asked.

Hermione shook her head. "You know better than that," she said with a soft smile and the little elf chuckled at her as Hermione began to pour. "Would everyone like milk and sugar?" she asked.

"Honey and lemon, if you have it," Helen said with a smile.

Hermione looked down at the tray and Pixy cleared her throat. "We is all out of honey, Mistress," she said with a knowing glance and Hermione's cheeks turned pink.

oOoOoOo

Theo never returned to the dining room and Hermione apologised to everyone, though both her parents and the Weasleys insisted they understood and Theo's anger over the situation had, in fact, endeared him to everyone all the more. Molly and Arthur were walked to the Floo before Hermione turned and smiled at her parents, offering to show them to the guest room.

"This house is so beautiful, Hermione," Helen said as she walked into the large bedroom, running her fingers over the soft comforter on the bed before her attention was distracted by the attached balcony that looked out over the gardens.

"You can stay as long as you like," Hermione replied, whispering her words more to her father than her mother, as Helen was still protesting anything that interfered with her independence. Richard, at least, seemed to contemplate anything offered to assist them during this time in their lives. During this trial.

He kissed the top of Hermione's head in gratitude.

"If you need anything, my . . . er . . . _our _. . . Theo and I are just down the hall there, the double doors at the end of the hallway. You just turn left and —"

"We'll be fine, sweetheart," Richard assured her.

Hermione nodded nervously. "But if you need anything, anything at all just let me —

There was a tiny pop and an elf appeared in the center of the room. "If theys need anything, theys be letting Tick know," the old elf said firmly. "Tick is honoured to be serving the Mistress's parents, he is." Tick's tone held steel of finality, as though if they didn't let him properly serve, his very honour was at stake and _that _would not be tolerated.

Hermione stared at the little elf, a soft smile on her face as she remembered that Theo had promised to find an elf in their service who would be willing and able to assist her parents if they allowed it. Something told Hermione that her parents no longer had a choice in the matter.

"Thank you, Tick," she said with a gentle smile. "Please don't over exert yourself," she added firmly. "If you do such a thing, I'll be forced to pay you."

Tick practically glared at the suggestion and then looked to Hermione's mother and father as though he were waiting for them to make the same type of threats. When, instead, they just stared at him with a bit of curious shock, he nodded and smiled, bowing his head. "Theys calls for Tick when theys be needing things," he said, making sure that both Helen and Richard got the message before he Disapparated away.

"You get used to them," Hermione offered before kissing both of her parents goodnight, shutting their door and making her way to the bedroom she shared with Theo.

She closed the door behind her, noting the pitch black of the room. Flicking her wand to light the lamps, Hermione peered at the still full cup of tea by Theo's side of the bed. She removed her outer robes and walked toward the bathroom, wondering if Theo was inside. Finding the room empty, she frowned and moved to her side of the bed, depositing her robes over the end of a chair in the corner, her eyes drawn to a shadow on the balcony.

Opening the doors, she frowned at the sight of Theo sitting alone, arms crossed in front of his body while he rocked back and forth. "Oh gods," she muttered and rushed to his side. "I thought you were just angry but . . . Theo, how bad is the pain?" she asked, mentally cursing herself for not seeing that he'd been suffering.

He shrugged. "I don't know . . . it was . . . all day a bit but then . . . then it burned and stabs and I can't get it to stop. Took the pills right after I left the room," he said, clenching his teeth.

Hermione frowned, wiping away the tears that quickly built in the corners of her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, pulling his head gently against her chest as she kissed the top of it. "I'm so sorry, love." She reached forward and slowly helped him to stand, wincing as she watched him grimace in pain.

Once inside, Theo leaned against the nearby wardrobe while Hermione ran the bath, throwing in a mixture of salts and oils with accuracy and attention as though she were brewing a potion. Once the steaming water smelled adequate, she returned to the bedroom and frowned as she reached up to cup Theo's face, leaning up on the tips of her toes to gently kiss him.

"Not your fault," he muttered, not fighting as she began to unbutton his robes, pushing the fabric over his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, pooling at their feet. She knelt before him to pull off his shoes and socks, gently tugging the fabric as he hissed in pain, and then turned her attention to his buckle and trousers, pulling them down his legs and letting her fingers brush lightly across his skin in a soothing way, purposely redirecting her gaze as she helped him to remove his pants.

Theo looked mildly embarrassed as she assisted lowering him into the bathtub, but a reproachful look from her had him nodding his head in humble acceptance as though he could hear her silent protests that he allow her to help him.

Without another word, Hermione pulled her blouse up over her head and snaked her fingers behind her back to unclasp her bra. Theo watched with reverence as she undressed before him, too pained and fatigued to be able to react the way he desperately wanted to; to maybe finish what he'd started early that morning. There was the smallest of stirrings when she dropped her jeans, revealing cream coloured lace knickers.

"Did I ruin a surprise?" he managed to ask with a small smirk.

Hermione smiled at him and removed the scrap of fabric. "Scoot forward," she said, ignoring his question as she stepped into the water behind him, running her fingers over the wet skin of his back, urging him to relax against her body, sighing with relief when his muscles lost a bit of their tension under her gentle touch.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she quietly asked as she ran a soaked flannel over his shoulders, washing away his aches and pains, purposely ignoring the warmth that spread across her belly as his fingers brushed over her knee.

Theo sighed. "I hate it. I understand why your mum fights you, I really do. It . . . it's embarrassing to need help. It hurts to need you so much."

She dropped the flannel in the water and wrapped her arms around him from behind, pulling him tight against her body and breathing a strange sigh of relief when he pressed himself to her, his head tilted to the side, cheek against her breast. "Please don't be embarrassed," she whispered. "We have at least the next one hundred years with one another, Theo, and I'm certain that we'll have much worse moments than this."

He kissed the wet skin of her breast and instead of a heat burning between her thighs at the now familiar action, she felt a tightening in her chest that nearly had her gasping for breath as he curled into her embrace. "Not much longer now," she said softly, raking her fingers gently through his wet hair. "I think . . . I think I would marry you now, Theo, if it would take away your pain."

He shook his head. "You deserve a wedding. Proper."

"You don't deserve to suffer," she argued.

Theo merely shrugged. "Agree to disagree."

She sighed, her gaze landing on the Dark Mark, blurred beneath the surface of the water. She remembered each and every time she'd seen it, branded into the skin of Death Eaters. First, a darkening mark upon her former Potions Professor's skin in the Hospital Wing following the Triwizard Tournament, then again in the Department of Mysteries on Draco's father's arm and the others who sought to kill them all that night. She'd seen it on occasion throughout the war, especially the last year, on the run with Harry and Ron. She'd watched as Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy had fought over which of them would be the one to summon Voldemort, when she and her two best friends had been caught by Snatchers.

And then the final battle.

And after.

Staring at the lineup of Death Eaters, young and old. On the elder men and women — some bound in chains and others merely bodies awaiting the morgue — the Mark looked angry and hideous, this evil thing that penetrated skin and soul and sucked away the life and joy in the world. On the skin of the _young _Death Eaters it looked . . . horrifying. Fresh, new and dark as night laying against skin and souls that still seemed innocent to the world compared to their elder counterparts.

When they displayed anger, she could see the Death Eaters in the boys. She saw it tonight when Theo had stormed away, and had seen it many times over the years working with Draco. But they always fell back to a state of awkward innocence. Draco in the presence of Luna, and Theo . . . now with her.

She ignored the Dark Mark beneath the water, instead choosing to focus on the small beads of moisture on Theo's long eyelashes. His eyes had closed and he breathed heavy against her, finally relaxed and sleeping in her embrace. She reached for her wand on the side of the tub, casting a quick Warming Charm on the water, not yet ready to wake him.

* * *

**A/N**: Don't forget to connect with me on tumblr (shayalonnie). Just updated my massive Fic Rec List today.


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Just a heads up, Misplaced Moony will now go up Mondays and Fridays, while Tying the Nott will switch to Wednesdays. Posting this chapter today, though, because I promised many of you that it would be up yesterday, but I had a few things I needed to fix.

Q&amp;As - **ZazzyZannabil**, I do plan on eventually writing a Fred/Hermione one day. The twins don't come naturally to me when I write (not like say, Remus and Sirius or even Theo) so it takes a lot of effort to get them written properly. When I get the right story to inspire me, I'll make a Fremione. **Lady of Sign**, the wedding will NOT be the final chapter. This story doesn't really have an ending planned. It's an outlet for me to pour fluff, smut, and drama in when they don't fit into other stories. I have no idea how or when TTN will end, but it won't be soon.

As usual, ask me questions (to get faster answers) on tumblr (shayalonnie).

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Thirty-One

* * *

**March 29th, 2004**

Hermione woke in Theo's arms, smiling as he pressed his lips against her neck and collarbone, working his way down to her breasts, lavishing them with the same reverent attention he'd given them the night before in the bath they'd shared. She'd kept them in the water, letting him rest against her body, as long as possible and only when her fingers were sufficiently pruned, did she gently wake Theo and help him into bed where they both fell into a deep sleep.

She chuckled softly when he rested his weight against her, long arms wrapped completely around her ribcage, his head resting in the valley between her breasts, breathing deep as she rested the inside of her thighs against the outside of his hips, not paying much attention to the implications of their positions.

"How are you feeling?" she whispered, trailing her fingers through his hair, slightly sticking up in places from having gone to bed wet.

Theo moaned happily. "Better," he said and then sat up on his knees and elbows, kissing a line from her sternum to her throat and then ending against her lips, lazily working his tongue into her mouth. Hermione whimpered at the feel of him, her skin igniting almost instantaneously with every touch, and it wasn't until she felt his morning erection—hard and heavy between his legs—brush against the apex of her thighs, that she remembered they had both gone to bed completely naked.

At the feel of him, she gasped and Theo pulled away, having obviously felt the touch himself. He swallowed hard and stared down into her eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation or approval or . . . anything that would signal one way or another as to how he should proceed. She looked nervous, chewing the inside of her cheek as she stared up at him. Not like a virgin ready to be deflowered, nor in any way afraid of him, but almost as though she knew she was holding something back.

And he knew it too.

He swallowed hard feeling the same strange anxiety building in his chest. He wanted her, was _desperate _for her, but there was something else. Something he knew he wanted to say—_needed _to say—but his body was almost shaking with the fear of being the first to open his mouth. He figured, had a reason; falling back on Slytherin tendencies that told him to hide away his weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Remembering that the first time Draco had admitted his love for Luna, the man had owled him from Hogwarts, raging drunk on smuggled firewhisky from Hogsmeade, and was so horrified that he'd made himself so vulnerable that he was contemplating quitting school and running away to France.

"Tell me," Hermione whispered, looking like that infamous Gryffindor courage was failing her.

"I . . ." he started, staring into her eyes and realising that he was oddly grateful that death was coming for him because he felt lucky that she was there, and if not for the Mark, would she have been here, in his arms, with him? Too many _what ifs_ battled around in his head and he sighed, falling back on a safer path.

"_If you feel that you are destined for me," _he whispered, _"with implacable sweetness. In me all that fire is repeated. In me nothing is extinguished. My love feeds on your love,"_ he said, licking his lips and forcing himself to keep her gaze even as she looked like she was attempting to blink away the rapidly building moisture in her eyes.

"_Beloved,"_ he called her and she nodded in reply. _"As long as you live, it will be in your arms without leaving mine."_

She let out a shaky breath and whispered, "Yes."

He kissed her, pressing his lips softly against her own, gently coaxing them to part so he could taste her again, using his tongue to stoke a fire that burned low and deep. She moaned into his mouth and Theo's breath quickened. He pushed one of her thighs, spreading her legs further as he reached his hand between them, rubbing his fingers against liquid heat and groaning at the speed and depth of her arousal.

He was tempted to lavish her with more attention, focusing on her breasts, stomach, and thighs and he had a plan to kiss her ankles at some point—just because he hadn't yet—but the throbbing ache inside of him begged for relief and so he positioned himself against her entrance, never taking his eyes off of hers, watching as she gasped when he stroked the tip of his cock against her.

"Oh gods . . ."

Wanting to draw it out as long as possible but still touch, Theo ran his length between her folds, slickening himself with her arousal and watching as her lips parted and her eyelids closed when he rubbed himself against her clit, circling her entrance but not yet penetrating it. "So wet for me," he mumbled, licking his lips and closing his eyes, relishing the feel of her. Still testing the waters, Theo duplicated the movement again and again, the ridge of his cock repeatedly clipping against the swollen bundle of nerves. He gazed down as a deep flush moved up her body, over her pert breasts and neck and settled in her cheeks.

She placed her palm against his chest and, somehow, the small touch was enough to edge him closer and closer and he hesitated thrusting inside of her, knowing he wouldn't last this early in the morning, not with how sexy she looked and how wet she was. He could only imagine how tight . . . But he was young, and his refractory period was short, especially with her panting beneath him, quivering at his touch. Theo continued to push and rub, massaging the outside of her pussy with his length, letting the tip of him grind against her nerves every few seconds, shifting his rhythm every few strokes until she was gasping and shaking and everything burned, set deliciously on fire.

"Please. Please. Th-Theo . . ." she whimpered, breath caught in her throat, fists clenched tightly at her sides.

At the sound of his name, he ducked low and captured a nipple between his teeth, giving it a firm but gentle bite and suddenly she was crying out in rapture, pressing her body tightly against him. Wanting to feel her rapture for himself, Theo thrust two fingers inside of her and rubbed only once before her walls fluttered like a quickening heartbeat before pulsing and sucking, pulling his digits deeper into her as if her body knew it wanted—_needed_—more of him; all of him.

Not one to be more spectator than participant, Hermione reached between them and gripped his cock in her small hand and squeezed. Two strokes was all it took before he thrust and groaned, muttering, "Fuck . . . Hermione," under his breath and spilling hot seed across her belly.

Breathing hot and heavy against one another's mouths, Hermione leaned up and kissed him slow, chuckling softly.

"That was funny to you?" he teasingly asked, a relaxed grin on his face.

She kissed him again and smiled. "Let me guess. That wasn't the first time we had sex?" she offered, remarking on his game revolving around their first kiss.

Theo laughed, pressing his forehead against her chest, genuinely caught in a moment of pure joy. "No, I wouldn't say that was the first," he admitted and kissed under her jaw, distracting her as he reached for his wand, gently _Scourgifying _her stomach.

"Mmm," she moaned. "This is where you're supposed to tell me what it will be like when we _really _have sex for the first time," she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She tilted her hips in a teasing way and already Theo could feel himself stirring again as though the sweat caught between their bodies was a Lust Potion made specifically for him.

"Since you asked so nicely," he muttered against her lips and reached down, hiking her thigh over his arm, far too eager to bury himself as deeply inside of her as he possibly could, desperate to feel her body clenching down on his cock instead of his fingers.

Hermione giggled and moaned and then licked at his lips and then screamed when the sound of a house-elf's Apparating _pop _filled the room.

"Pixy doesn't be looking!"

Theo jumped back to cover the pair of them and instantly slipped off the edge of the mattress, bringing the black sheets down with him, leaving a completely naked Hermione sitting up in the center of their bed, trying her damnedest to cover herself with her hands.

"Pixy is sorry," the little elf said, hands over her eyes. "Pixy wouldn't interrupt Master and Mistress's breeding time—"

"Oh gods," Hermione groaned.

"Don't call it that," Theo insisted.

"—but Mistress's parents are awake and are in the Potions Lab."

"What?" Hermione asked, eyes wide. "Shit!" she snapped and jumped out of bed, instantly forgetting her modesty as she reached for her robe and a pair of jeans hanging over the edge of the dresser. "Pixy, can you go down and—"

"Pixy has already warded the cabinet and the cauldrons," the house-elf said, finally peeking through her fingers to glance at a dressed Hermione. Theo, who was kneeling at the side of the bed, had his head pressed between both forearms as though praying—likely for a Time-Turner.

Hermione ran around the side of the bed and quickly kissed him. "We're finishing this later," she insisted before rushing out the door.

oOoOoOo

With Pixy's help keeping her parents from touching anything dangerous, Hermione had a few extra seconds to throw her hair up into a messy bun, using a half-arsed Sticking Charm to keep in in place so she didn't look thoroughly disheveled when she greeted her parents. She quickly made her way down the stairs toward the Potions Lab, unaware that she was barefoot until her toes hit cold tile and she let out a small yelp of shock, drawing the attention of three house-elves, all who popped right in front of her.

"Mistress needs help?"

"Is Mistress hurt?"

"How can Nugget help Mistress?"

Hermione shook her head, staring down at Nugget first and sighing. _Names_. She made a mental note to research house-elf names when she went back to work. "I'm fine, thank you all very much. Please . . . I don't need anything right now, I promise."

Hesitantly, and with a touch of bored disappointment, the elves all slunk off to find something to clean.

"Mum? Dad?" she called as she stepped into the lab, smiling when she saw her parents sitting down at her work table, teacups in hand and Pixy looking exceptionally proud of herself for diverting their attention.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Richard said before sipping his tea.

Helen stood and kissed her daughter on the cheek. "I hope you don't mind us snooping about. It was getting late and we didn't want to disturb you."

"Late?" Hermione frowned and quickly cast a _Tempus_ with the flick of her wand, shocked to see that it was well past the normal time that she and Theo usually woke for breakfast. "I'm so sorry! I'd planned to make breakfast this morning."

"Pixy can do it!" the house-elf said enthusiastically and Hermione sighed, reluctantly nodding her head.

When Pixy vanished, Hermione looked at her parents. "I'm being forced to rethink a lot of my beliefs regarding house-elves. I actually feel quite bad when I don't let them do things for me," she admitted, a bit begrudgingly.

"I'll agree with you on the treatment of the poor dears," Helen said. "After what you told us about . . . what was his name?"

Hermione frowned. "Dobby."

Helen nodded. "It's good of you to do what you can for those who can't do for themselves," she said with a proud smile.

Hermione returned her mother's expression with a tight-lipped version of her own, silently wondering if the woman had any idea the irony of her statement considering she'd practically forbidden her daughter from assisting her in any way possible.

"How do you like the lab?" Hermione asked, clearing her throat and reaching into a nearby cupboard where she kept her personal mug that Harry had bought for her while on a trip to America; charmed to refill itself with coffee as long as a pot had been brewed in the associated kitchen.

Hermione tapped the mug with her wand and watched with joy as it filled itself.

"It's so clean in here," Helen commented as she looked around the room while her daughter fed the caffeine monster inside of her.

"Well, your offices were always properly sanitized and I remember you and Daddy always telling me about germs and how you had to keep things clean and not contaminate anything and . . . and well, Professor Snape was quite similar . . . only a lot louder," the witch said with an amused snort.

"Snape," Helen thought for a moment. "Oh, he was the . . . unpleasant one. The Professor who turned out to be . . ." At Hermione's simple nod, Helen smiled and returned her attention to the various things around the room. "Well, he kept you in good habits then. Good man."

Richard chuckled. "This is an amazing lab, sweetheart. Is this what most of them look like?" he asked curiously, his focus landing on the warded cabinet where they could see but not touch all the alphabetized ingredients. "Didn't exactly get to see them at St. Mungo's or at Hogwarts when we were able to visit Poppy."

Hermione refused to comment on their first name basis with the Hogwarts mediwitch, still a bit put out that she was left in the dark for so long about her mother's illness. Instead, she focused on the here and now. "This lab was obviously here before I moved in and I've just set everything up the way I like it since I'm down here so often."

Helen let out a loud chuckle as she browsed the cabinet from the outside, staring at the vials within. "A Sober-Up Potion? Really?" she said, turning to raise an amused brow at her daughter.

Hermione laughed. "Really," she said, walking over to show her mother her collection. "I brew an extra-strength one _in bulk_ for Harry's godfather, the lush."

Richard stood and made his way across the room to join his family, setting a hand on Helen's shoulder as he peered over the top of her head at the variety of sizes and colours of potions. "Some things I don't think I'll ever get over learning about. Potions is one of them."

Hermione grinned at the sparkle in her father's eye, feeling excited to show off a bit considering they still were somewhat hesitant of charms and transfiguration. "It's the closest to medicine we have in this world outside of Healing Charms. Potions is really more science than—"

"Invigoration Draught, Dreamless Sleep, Pepper-Up," Helen read the labels aloud, more and more interested as she went along, "Blood Replenisher, Pain . . . what's this one, dear? It's not labeled," she asked, grabbing a small purple vial with bubbles, holding it up for Hermione to inspect.

The witch glanced at the crystal vial. "Oh, that's just an Anti-Nausea Potion. I ran out of labels and we go through it so fast that I—"

Richard furrowed his brow. "Why do you go through them so fast?" he asked and suddenly Hermione's eyes widened as she realised her mistake. "Hermione?"

Helen gasped, eyes drawn towards her daughter's flat tummy. "Hermione are you—?"

"What? No!" Hermione insisted as quickly as possible. "No, I'm not pregnant, I just meant . . . I . . . umm . . . the potion, it's for—"

"It's for me."

All three Grangers turned to see Theo standing in the doorway, dressed in his usual day robes but wearing Muggle jeans, like Hermione. He smiled sadly at her and stepped into the lab, approaching the family and gratefully taking the vial out of his future mother-in-law's hands.

Hermione frowned. "Theo—"

"It's fine, love," he said, kissing her cheek before opening the top of the potion, swallowing it down as quickly as possible and then vanishing the vial. "Needed it anyway."

Richard looked nervous considering the expression on his daughter's face. "What's going on?" he demanded.

Theo sighed and glanced between his future in-laws. "I . . . am dying."


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: I would say that I'm sorry about the cliffhanger on the last chapter, but let's face it, me and cliffhangers are like Voldemort and Horcruxes.

As always, you can connect with me on twitter and tumblr (shayalonnie).

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Thirty-Two

* * *

**March 29th, 2004**

Hermione looked down at the floor, biting her bottom lip as her wizard confessed his secret.

Richard who, a moment ago looked irritable, now was pale and staring, gobsmacked, at the young man in front of him, likely reliving one of the worst moments of his life at the words, "I am dying".

"What?" he asked. "What do you mean you're . . ."

"I _won't _. . ." Theo tried to explain, his gaze landing on Helen who looked a great deal more sympathetic and concerned, rather than panicked like her husband. "Not after we get married," he said and smiled sadly when he felt Hermione reach for his hand. He sighed and looked down at the Dark Mark there on his forearm. "Sometimes the follies of youth come with the severest of consequences," he told them, attention returning to Richard. "I was cursed."

Helen gasped. "Have you . . . but wait, isn't that what you _do_?" she asked, her focus darting between the young couple. "Break curses?"

Theo nodded. "Yes. And this one took me watching four friends dying and two surviving for me to figure it all out," he said. "And no, I can't go to a Healer," he said when Helen attempted to speak again, already knowing her question. "They wouldn't know what to do."

Richard had his hand on his head, looking as though he were nervously tugging on his already thinning hair. "What do you mean . . . not after you get married?"

Hermione looked up at her parents and sighed. "The curse . . . it drains a person's magical core. It's what keeps us living. It's our blood, our heartbeat, every synapse in our brain. It's what makes us . . . alive," she explained.

"When people in our world marry, they're bonded," Theo said.

"I know the term," Helen jumped in. "Molly said . . . that's what they call it when you get married. That's not a . . . just another term?" she asked. "Getting hitched, tying the knot . . ."

Hermione shook her head. "No. When _we _marry, our magical cores are bonded together. They merge and become shared from that point forward. It's . . . it's as permanent as you can become," she said, chancing a look at her father who seemed to be putting all the right puzzle pieces together and growing more and more upset by the second. "It's also why there's no such thing as divorce in the Wizarding world. It would be one of the ugliest things a person could do to their own or another's magic, separating two merged cores. It's also impossible."

Theo, guessing Hermione's growing anxiety, wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "When we marry, Hermione's core will merge with mine and her magic will keep me alive and, in the long run, cure me."

Helen looked upset but also intrigued. "How . . . how do you _know_?" she asked, a lump in her throat. "You're certain that you won't . . . I mean . . ."

"Because two of my friends lived when they shouldn't have," Theo said. "Their wives kept them alive."

Richard let out a huff of breath and shook his head angrily. "_This_ is why. This is why we've never heard of you before . . . how long?" he asked, his eyes staring at his daughter.

Hermione bit her lower lip. "Dad—"

"How long have you _actually _been engaged?"

She swallowed. "Less than a month," she said and Richard let out an exasperated breath, turning away from them all to pace around the lab in frustration.

"And you've been dating . . .?" Helen pried.

"Hermione and I were _officially _introduced the day we signed the marriage contract," Theo confessed. "My friends asked . . . _begged _her to marry me in order to save my life."

Helen's eyes widened. "Earlier this month?" she asked. "That was when—"

Hermione nodded, confirming her mother's suspicions. "The next day," she said quietly.

Helen sighed. "Oh, Hermione, when I said I wanted to attend your wedding . . . this is not what I meant!"

Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm doing it."

"Like hell," Richard said storming back toward them, his eyes narrowed at his daughter, not taking a chance to look at Theo. "You've sacrificed _enough _for this world! And all the bloody secrets—"

"_My_ secrets," Theo interrupted the man. "She didn't keep them from you for any reason other than protecting my privacy."

Richard sighed and rubbed his hands down his face, looking torn between a flurry of emotions, trying to settle on just one but struggling to. "Theo. You're a good man and I've come to like you very much since . . ." he said and then just waved his hand at the pair as if silently summing up whatever they wanted to call their relationship. "But . . . I don't claim to understand your world, _especially _stuff like this. I don't wish you harm but . . . this is my _daughter_."

Theo nodded in understanding, holding his head high and proud like he'd been raised to, unflinching in the face of any adversity. "She's free to leave me if that's her wish," Theo declared. "I won't hold her to anything, I swear it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Theo," she said in a scolding tone. "I'm not going anywhere."

Helen frowned. "Hermione—"

"No!" the witch finally snapped at her mother. "You made decisions about how _you _want to live out the rest of your life, haven't you?" she asked, her voice too loud and too high, tears already building in the corners of her eyes. "Regardless of what anyone else thinks or feels? You want to just ignore the inevitable and not let me help you even though it's killing me not to do something to try and help! I _know _you're going to die. I've come to terms with that, but you won't even let me share the burden of it," she yelled, choking on a sob that was crawling its way out of her throat. "You want me to pretend like it's not happening, but it _is_! And I've tried to respect that even though I think it's bullshit!"

"Hermione!" Richard shouted, but she ignored him.

"So _you _respect the choices I'm making with the rest of _my _life!"

Her father sighed. "Sweetheart, this is different. You're—"

She turned her anger on him and, at the sight of her hair throwing sparks, Theo placed his hands her shoulders, using the small bit of his own magic to help ground her, just in case. "If you say that I'm throwing my life away, we're going to have problems, Dad," Hermione hissed. "Theo will _die _if I don't marry him. That is the truth. It's something I can do. I can do nothing to save _you_," she said, looking at her mother, "but I can save _him_."

Helen shook her head. "And what happens when I die and you realise that you've married a man you barely met because you felt helpless?"

Hermione shrugged as though she had it all worked out and such a circumstance didn't matter. "Then I will cry and grieve and probably feel like dying myself because it's not fair that you won't be there for every moment for the rest of my life," she said, holding back the tears and visibly shaking because of it. "I will mourn you in ways I can't even begin to understand or describe because thinking about them will be too painful. But I will survive that grief because _he'll _be here to keep me together," she said, reaching up and gripping Theo's hand.

The wizard replied by kissing the top of her head, the affection for her burning him up inside, desperate to put an end to this awful confrontation but knowing it was necessary to move forward.

Richard sighed in frustration, looking at least twice as broken as Helen did. "Hermione—" he tried to reason, but Theo stepped between the man and his daughter.

"I made you a promise, Richard," he said. "I swore to you that I'd take care of her. I plan on keeping that promise for the rest of my life. I know this is . . . unconventional, to say the least," he admitted. "But I . . ." he exhaled shakily, truly not wanting to do this here and now.

Theo turned, blocking her parents out of the bubble he erected by taking his witch's hands in his own and pressing his forehead against hers. "Hermione, I love you," he admitted. "And that scares the hell out of me because I've never loved _anyone _this way before. It hurts how much I adore you and how I breathe every moment we're together like it's the very air that gives me life." He reached up and cupped her cheek with his palm, stroking away a falling tear from her face with the pad of his thumb. "I am not afraid of death, but I _am _afraid of dying before living out at least another one hundred years waking up next to you."

Hermione smiled and choked on a sob as she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as tightly as she possibly could. "Gods . . . Theo, I love you so much," she admitted, letting out a loud sigh of relief once the words left her lips.

Theo took her face in his hands, kissing her with everything he had in him, tasting the bitter coffee on her tongue, the salt of her tears, and the sweetness that was just her. After a moment, they broke apart hearing a sniffle behind them.

Hermione looked over Theo's shoulder to see her mother dabbing her sleeve at her eyes. "Oh, just . . ." Helen said, waving them off. "Ignore me," she insisted, smiling through the tears.

Richard looked down, almost shamefully. "I . . . please . . . no more secrets," he quietly begged. "From _either _of you. We're family, all of us. Family shouldn't keep secrets."

Theo smiled softly and held out his hand to the man. "No more secrets," he agreed and let out a breath when Richard shook his hand.

Hermione frowned and stepped toward her mother. "Mum?"

Helen sniffed once more and wiped both hands across her eyes. "I . . . I would like to help plan the wedding, if I could," she said, looking small in stature and a bit uneasy as she spoke.

Hermione nodded. "Of course."

"And . . ." Helen hesitantly began, speaking quietly, "I would like to accept your offer to . . ." she angrily chewed through the words and her own pride, "to help me. I don't have the energy to take care of the house and—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Theo called out, "Tick!"

The elder house-elf appeared, grinning up at Hermione's mother as though _his _time had _finally _come and he was ready to go into battle. "Tick lives to serve the Mistress's parents," he declared firmly, stomping his foot as he spoke.

Helen smiled down at the creature and Theo actually laughed at the elf's enthusiasm. Eventually, Hermione's mother turned to her husband and sighed, reaching out for his hand. "Richard."

The man grumbled bitterly under his breath, "The treatment for Helen's . . . it was experimental and . . . wasn't covered so," he sighed heavily. "The medical bills are—"

"Consider them paid," Theo replied immediately, interrupting Hermione's father, not needing to see the man actually ask for help. _Gryffindors, the lot of them_. "I'll contact my Gringott's vault manager today," he insisted and, before Richard could offer any humble gratitude, Theo spoke again, "May I make another suggestion?"

Helen nodded. "Please."

"Move into the manor with us."

Hermione gasped and Helen's eyes widened. Richard looked hesitant. "Theo, I don't think that's—"

"You should be together," the young wizard insisted, pulling Hermione forward by the hand and placing her between himself and her parents. "As a family. Use up every minute you can together. This place hasn't had a proper family in . . . well, maybe ever. It's long past time and we've more room than we need."

Helen smiled softly but then quietly asked, "For how long?"

Theo looked at the woman and frowned. "As long as . . ." he began, wondering what words would offer comfort. In the end, he went with the truth, respecting the Grangers too much to placate them. "As long as it takes," he said and Helen smiled up at him brightly, understanding his meaning. He then turned his attention to Richard who was glaring down at the ground, his hand gripping his wife's tightly. "And then, as long as you need."


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Posting this tonight instead of tomorrow morning because we've been having weird power outages lately thanks to the weather.

Q&amp;As - **Djomar**, because Hermione's mother is a Muggle, they cannot use any type of bonding ritual to save her life the way Hermione will save Theo's. Helen has no magical core to be bound to.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Thirty-Three

* * *

**March 30th, 2004**

Hermione smiled, watching as Theo's eyes fluttered open The beautiful sparkle of deep blue with flecks of brown practically glittered in the light that broke through the curtains of their bedroom window. He flinched against it but smiled when she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips against his mouth and whispered, "I love you."

Her heart seemed to stop beating in the split second it took for him to reply, a part of her worried that perhaps he'd said it in the heat of the moment, pressured because her parents had been there, questioning their engagement and relationship and everything about the way that—

"I love you," Theo said, trailing a finger from her brow, around her face and down her jaw, letting his hand rest on the base of her throat, the pad of his thumb stroking her chin.

The simple movement had heat pooling in her belly and a familiar ache growing between her thighs.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

He released her throat and stretched his arms above his head, closing his eyes when he yawned, missing the slight pout that came over her expression when he'd stopped touching her. "I think I'm good today," he admitted with a grin. "Why? Do you have plans?" he asked, reaching out and twirling a strand of her hair around a finger.

"Mmm," Hermione pressed her lips together and thought for a moment, "Mum and Dad could use my help today packing everything up. I thought I'd wait until later this afternoon. Give them a chance to be alone in the house for a while."

Theo grinned. "Speaking of being alone in a house," he said and leaned forward, pressing his lips and tongue to the side of her neck and nibbling his way up to her ear. "Is there anything you want to do before your parents move in with us?"

She laughed. "Like what? Shag on the dining room table?"

He smirked. "I think you know I prefer the breakfast nook," he whispered and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, drawing her into a heady kiss that left her brain fuzzy and her skin overheated.

"Mmm . . . no more breakfast nook table shenanigans," she said with a grin. "Pixy was very disappointed in us." Theo laughed and Hermione sighed happily against him. "Why don't you go take your pills and potions and jump in the shower?" she suggested. "I have a few owls I need to send and then we can go down and have breakfast."

Theo only complained for a moment before separating from her and begrudgingly taking her advice as though he'd made the plan himself.

oOoOoOo

He'd just finished rinsing the soap bubbles from his skin when the shower door opened and a naked Hermione stepped inside, her wild hair already damp from the humidity in the room. Theo turned and smiled at her, his eyes raking over her body. They'd bathed together once when he was sick; falling asleep in her arms was heaven compared to the hell of the curse and the pain. But he was feeling perfectly fine this morning and couldn't help but wonder what her wet skin would feel like, rubbing up against his when the Dark Mark curse wasn't inhibiting his driving need to make her come.

He reached out and took her hand, pulling her quickly forward until their bare chests pressed together and his free hand buried itself in her hair as his lips crushed against her mouth, his tongue stroking hers. She let out a sweet little whimper when Theo's hands roamed her skin, his fingers trailing down her spine, over the curve of her back and against her arse. "Gods, I want you," he moaned against her, his erection pressing into her belly.

"No," she said quietly.

Theo let out the smallest of pouting moans until he looked down and saw the heat in her gaze and watched, ever so slowly, as she dropped to her knees in front of him. "Oh fuck," he whispered, staring as her kiss-swollen lips turned up into a delighted—and incredibly too smug—smirk before they parted and wrapped over the tip of his cock.

His head fell backward and he let out a low groan of absolute pleasure that only increased as she lowered her lips. She let him fill her mouth before pulling back, allowing her teeth to very, very gently drag against him in an enticing tease that promised him rough and hard instead of sweet. Almost as though their magic was already fusing together when they drew from one another's pleasure, Theo felt his strength returning to him as she built up a steady rhythm, stopping every minute or so to swirl her tongue around the tip of him, memorising the texture of the ridge just there, flicking it just to see how he reacted. When she placed her lips just under the base and sucked, his knees almost gave out. Even through the water still pounded down on his back, he could hear her chuckling.

When she swallowed him back down, Theo carefully ran his hand through the wet locks of her hair and, when she didn't adjust her movements at all, he took a chance and gripped her curls in his fist, ready to let go at any sign of disapproval. When instead, she moaned deep and dropped one of her hands between her thighs, Theo let out a shaky exhale, stopping to ponder how karma had clearly made a mistake much to his benefit, and then thrust into her mouth.

He felt himself touch the back of her throat and when she didn't choke or gag or make any noise other than a hungry growl of desire, he reached his other hand down to touch her face, drawing her gaze up to his own so that she could see . . . see _exactly _what she was doing to him. He touched her lips, spread tight and wrapped around him. "Fuck, you're perfect . . . just like . . . oh gods, Hermione. Are . . . are you . . ." he began to ask, his attention drawn to the fingers between her legs. "Does sucking my cock make you wet?"

She moaned, a visible shiver running over her body, and she nodded her head just before hollowing her cheeks. Theo groaned loudly, letting a dark growl out of his chest. "Hermione . . . Hermione, I'm gonna . . . I'm coming," he warned and, predictably the focused and determined Gryffindor that she was, she picked up the pace and didn't stop until his screams of pleasure had quieted and he released his firm grip on her hair to place his palms against the wet tile behind her, breathing heavy.

She licked her lips after swallowing, looking up at him as she stood, the same smug grin she'd had earlier and she appeared like she wanted to say something but didn't have the chance before her back was flush against the cold tile and he was against her, devouring her like a hungry predator. His fingers thrusted into her pussy the same time his tongue pushed between her lips. Her mouth was salty and sweet and saturated with the taste of him.

Theo actually kicked the shower nozzle until the water turned off before pulling away from her and reaching down, gripping her waist and hoisting her slick body over his shoulder. Hermione let out a squeak of shock as he carried her across the bathroom, flicking open the cabinet on the other side of the wall.

She laughed. "What're you looking for?"

"Invigoration Draught," he replied. "I'm not even close to being done with you," he said as he found the vial, drinking it down as swiftly as possible before leaving the bathroom behind in favour of the bed, dropping her naked, wet body down against the black silk.

She didn't mind, Hermione had told herself repeatedly, that it was her unofficial job to take care of everyone. After Harry and Ron had saved her from a troll in first year, she'd been grateful for their friendship and reciprocated in the only way she knew how: unwavering loyalty—well, that, and monitoring their educations because they weren't about to properly revise on their own. Helping Harry win a war was just another part of friendship. When it was all over and she invested herself in her work, her friends, returning her parents memories, and so on.

Theo was no different. She loved to take care of him. To be the sturdy rock for everyone else to lean on, to depend on.

But it was almost enlightening to look up at Theo now, staring down at her with dark and hungry eyes and completely lose herself to the out of control feeling he left in her. She wasn't a rock or sturdy or remotely dependable at that moment. She was weightless; water; fluid and wet—gods, _so wet_—and she was surprised at how freely she gave up control, arms spread to the side in complete surrender as he towered over her, his wet dark hair dripping on her bared breasts.

Eagerly, she moved to reach for him but he swiftly knocked her hand away, pinning her to the bed with a look that he maintained as he slipped down her body, watching her react when he slid his tongue against her folds, his movements slow and deliberate and distracting enough that she was caught completely off guard when he thrust two fingers inside. She screamed his name and fisted his hair and arched her back off the bed, thighs tensing painfully.

He drew back up her body, continually moving his fingers inside. His frame hovered over hers and he watched as she writhed beneath him, twisting the black sheets in her hands once he'd pried them away from his hair. He tried to place his lips against hers at the same time that his thumb drew a circle around her clit and she threw her head back and shook, baring her neck to him in the process. Theo latched onto it gratefully and moaned when he felt her begin to shatter.

"I can't . . . I can't breathe," she moaned. "Theo I need—"

"Need you . . . want—"

"—can't wait . . . fuck . . . oh!"

"Gods, Hermione . . . you taste—"

"—please! I need you . . . _inside _me!"

He stopped moving and looked down at her.

She shook her head. "Don't stop," she pleaded. "Don't stop, don't think . . ."

He didn't.

He pressed his forehead against hers and they both closed their eyes, so focused on the moment when he _finally_, inch by aching inch, slid himself inside of her.

Silence fell between them as he settled in the cradle of her hips. The only hint of a sound was the tiniest of whimpers edging their way out of Hermione's throat. He refused to move as her tight body wrapped its warmth around him and squeezed as he stretched her; filled her.

Theo opened his eyes and watched as Hermione licked her lips, the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth, her fingers twisting a lock of her own hair almost . . . shyly. He smiled and tenderly brushed a kiss against her cheek.

When he finally pulled back a few inches, he drew a gasp from her lips that did little to stifle the love shared between them in the moment, but somehow provoked the carnal need to bury, thrust, and sear himself into her. Somehow, despite the obvious intensity and darkness in his eyes as their gazes connected, he moved slowly; stirring, stroking, sliding. Each of his moves deliberate and controlled as she began clawing at his chest unpredictably, mumbling incoherently, "Theo . . . god . . . I . . . _p-please—oh_! I need . . . please . . . more—"

"Perfect," he whispered with every thrust—"_Perfect_,"—and she turned her head to the side pressing herself against the sheets, clinging to them so she didn't float away. "Perfect."

He adjusted his angle and Hermione let out a loud and shaky cry that nearly vibrated in the air on an exhale and Theo closed his eyes, pressing his forehead above a breast, mumbling, "Please, please . . . please come," before capturing a nipple between his lips.

She cried when she finally came, tears leaking out the side of her eyes and dripping onto the already wet sheets beneath them, soaked through with the water leftover from the shower mingled with sweat slipping from their necks, down their backs, and off of their hips. Her body squeezed him, held him, completely enveloped him and he fell utterly silent as his body froze solid before thrusting hard, pulsing repeatedly, spilling inside of her.

In the aftermath, he held her as tightly as he possibly could without hurting her. Their bodies moulded together perfectly, her legs still pressed around his hips as he whispered words of praise and love into her skin, dropping kisses and "thank you"s against her breasts while she stroked her fingers through his hair and tried to catch her breath.

When he eventually tried to slip out of her, Hermione cried out, "No!" and held him close, arms wrapped around his shoulders. Theo let out a strange sigh of relief as though he hadn't wanted to part from her in the first place but only thought it polite to offer. Nothing was said for a long time as they basked in the silent afterglow; neither with a single thought of regret. Hermione was left wondering if every time would be like that. If he would eventually regain his strength and magic and somehow . . but no . . . because it _couldn't _be any better than . . .

Theo stared down at his Dark Mark feeling conflicted.

Somehow because of it and the miserable things it represented—because of how it was trying to smother the life right out of him—she was there. An angel of mercy clinging to him like _he _was the one saving _her _instead of the other way around.

He held her close and whispered, "I love you, Hermione."

She smiled, a fully sated and deliriously happy smile, and kissed his forehead.

"My Theo."


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: So, a heads up. What I'm considering the first portion of this story is shortly coming to a close in the next few chapters, after which I am taking a short hiatus from writing Tying the Nott. Mostly because my muse doesn't like it right now and I love this story too much to force it. I will not leave you on a cliffhanger, I swear, and I will NOT abandon this fic (because I know people will ask). That being said, considering how often I post, it's likely that a short hiatus for me will be like . . . normal posting schedule for other authors. A month or something maybe. Follow me on twitter and tumblr to stay updated on the progress (shayalonnie). The last chapter that I have written/planned for this portion will post at the end of this month, so there's still time. :)

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Thirty-Four

* * *

**April 2nd, 2004**

The few days that followed were like an entirely different world for Hermione. Somehow, despite the reasons behind her being with Theo in the first place, and her parents moving into Nott Manor, she was almost able to forget that both Theo and her mother were, in fact, dying. Their normal routine of breakfast, lunch, and dinner spaced between taking letters, reading together in the library or breakfast nook, and checking off random items from a to do list now included her parents.

Richard had taken an interest in professional Quidditch, something he'd done years earlier when she'd still attended Hogwarts. It was his attempt at getting to know Harry and Ron and her world, since paying attention to her prattle on about Arithmancy equations was mind numbing. After years away from the sport, He was amused to hear that the Chudley Cannons still hadn't done much with their team, no matter what Ron said.

Richard and Theo would read the paper together, looking at recaps and scores and Theo would explain, as best as he could, strategy for the game as well as the many—_many!_—fouls. Meanwhile, Helen had asked Tick, her new best friend, to help her put together a wedding idea album for Hermione and every morning while the men talked Quidditch over bowls of fruit and fried sausages, Hermione would happily indulge her mother in showing off flower arrangement photographs from Muggle magazines she'd picked up before moving in, as well as dress ideas, menus, and centerpieces.

In the evenings, they would have a small dinner and talk about the past, letting the Grangers get to know Theo better. They learned an abridged version of his family history, leaving out the murder and abuse. Though, after knowing Harry for enough years, Richard and Helen picked up on a few clues to piece together the picture that was Theo's father, imprisoned Death Eater, Thoros Nott. Talking about his mother was an easier subject, though he'd failed to mention _how _she'd died other than to say it was a "tragic accident" in the same tone he'd been telling everyone for years. After hearing a great deal about Theo's mother, Calla, Helen added a crup puppy to her wish list for the following Christmas.

In addition to family time, Theo and Hermione were enjoying one another. Consummation of their relationship finally achieved, they stopped holding back entirely. The bed was broken in repeatedly, as was the shower, closet, and the breakfast nook one morning when the pair had attempted Disillusioned sex, which was a lot more complicated than they'd thought and earned them each a bump to the head and a few bruises when they'd fallen off the table.

Truly, though, she couldn't get enough of her wizard.

In the mornings she would wake beside him, his chest pressed to her back and his arms encircling her. "You are so very lovely," he would whisper and then, with a slight bit of a maneuvering, he would slip inside of her from behind, propping her thigh up against his leg as he thrust slowly in and out of her at a maddeningly slow pace that would have her nearly weeping by the time he allowed her to come.

In the afternoons, her father was often at work—grateful to a squib friend of Hermione's that lived near her parents offices and allowed the use of her Floo for the Grangers—and her mother would rest, Tick standing outside the bedroom door like a member of the Queen's Guard.

It was during those moments that Theo would track Hermione down within the Manor, predator hunting prey, cornering her somewhere near the lab, or the library, and once in the kitchens. The elves would be ordered away while he pinned his witch to the nearest surface—a counter, a bookshelf, a stool. Restraint was something they'd both lost in the heady fog of lust and love and pure addiction to one another.

It was a dream she knew would eventually end; reality lingering just around the corner.

"Fuck!" Theo snapped, pulling his hand away from a small box in his office like something had bit him. "Piece of godsdamned shit!"

Hermione's eyes widened, not used to hearing Theo lash out like that. "What's wrong?" she asked, walking into the office and feeling the wards shift around her. "Is this . . . did you ward this against Muggles?"

He grunted out an angry response. "I didn't want your parents coming near here," he said and flicked his wand at the box in front of him, closing the lid tightly.

"What's that?" she asked, frowning as she approached him, raking her fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead, taking note of the slight fever but not wanting to mention it considering the mood he was already in.

He sighed. "An old acquaintance of mine from my apprentice days occasionally sends me little things to work on. Small curses to break. Menial things . . . like a puzzle or crosswords for Curse-Breakers," he said. "But my magic's not working properly and I can't figure the fucking thing out because of it!"

She frowned, looking down at the box. "Is it dangerous?"

He shook his head. "Dark spell, yes, but dangerous? No. Just stings like a bitch when I touch it the wrong way."

He was angry and bitter and frustrated and Hermione felt helpless. Not knowing how to offer him assistance without also damaging his pride, she thought for a moment and then smiled. "How does it react when you touch it the _right _way?" she whispered teasingly.

It took a moment, but his anger faded and he smiled, pulling her down onto his lap until she was straddling him. "Mmm," he moaned against her mouth when she leaned down to kiss him, running her tongue over his bottom lip. "Have I told you that I love you, today?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes."

"Have I kissed you properly today?"

She grinned. "Oh, yes."

He nipped at her lip and then worked his way down her neck, his hands reaching around to grab her arse and hold her against him tightly. "Have I fucked you on my desk yet?"

She made a soft whimpering noise and rolled her hips forward, aching to feel him hard against her. When she came into contact with nothing, Hermione paused and looked down at him. "Theo?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

He nodded, his head resting against her sternum. "I'm fine, just . . . just give me a moment."

She pulled back and crawled from his lap, taking his face in her hands. "Did you put a glamour on, this morning?"

He blinked up at her. "Is it . . . is it gone?"

Hermione frowned. His magic was fading and fast. "Theo, you need to rest," she insisted, taking note of the pale colour of his skin and the slight sheen of sweat on his brow. It worried her to see him so weak, and after his little outburst over not being able to tackle a simple curse considering how brilliant he was . . . she was starting to really get scared. "No more work today, get into bed," she ordered. "I have to run a few errands and then I'll be back for dinner."

"What errands?" he asked, his voice bitter again but not toward her.

Hermione could tell he was angry at the _situation_. She looped her arm around him as he stood, positioning herself so that it seemed as though she were hugging him rather than helping to help him from falling over. "Full moon is in a few days and I need to bring Remus his Pain Potions for afterward," she said. "I wanted to run by the office as well and check on an old case that popped into my mind this morning. I think I forgot something and you know me, I'll go spare if I don't double-check everything."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Don't overdo it."

"You too," she said, trying to hide the worry in her tone. "Take some painkillers and a mild Calming Draught then have Pixy bring up some of that horrid tea that you hate so much." She smiled when he looked ready to pout. "I love you," she whispered.

Theo smiled, still looking exhausted as he kissed her as thoroughly as possible with what little energy he had in him. "Love you," he replied and turned to walk away, just missing the way her smile broke as she stepped toward the fireplace.

oOoOoOo

"Miss Granger, a pleasure," the young blonde said, extending a slender hand to Hermione as she approached the small table set in the back of the little French cafe.

"Call me Hermione, please," she said with a smile, taking the hand. "I can't believe we've never met before this." She nervously took a seat, hooking the strap of her purse around the back of the chair. Normally she wouldn't bother, but it was in a Muggle neighbourhood and the last thing she needed was to accidentally knock her bag over and have her wand roll out onto the floor.

"You must call me Tori, then," the younger witch said. "And don't feel bad about not meeting before now. I . . . Adrian and I usually keep to ourselves. But then _you _understand."

Hermione furrowed a brow. "Do I?"

Astoria paused. "Well, I assumed. The attention and all. I know Daphne doesn't mind and she's more than happy to get between Harry and the reporters, but then again she's marrying the Chosen One, isn't she?" she said, sounding like she was trying to be slightly teasing, but it came out just a touch bitter and, when she noticed, she looked down guiltily. "I don't . . . forgive me . . . it's been some time since I've—"

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said with a small smile. "I take it Adrian doesn't get a much better reception than Draco or Theo?"

Astoria shook her head. "Sometimes worse, I think," she said quietly and sipped at the glass of water in front of her. "Draco and Theo had excuses, you know. Their fathers were Death Eaters as well and they were all but _forced _to participate. Adrian . . . he was just following behind his friends. When Marcus was recruited, being a Flint and all," she said as though that made all the difference, "Cassius and Graham were right on his heels and Adrian rarely did anything without his friends. We're snakes," she said with a small chuckle, "we huddle together for warmth, you know."

Hermione frowned but nodded, suddenly very grateful for Draco and Blaise, who all but forced themselves on Theo when he was stubborn. "Adrian _chose _to become a Death Eater."

Astoria nodded. "Even when we can walk through Diagon Alley without being glared at, he still . . ." she paused and then cleared her throat. "But enough about me, you're getting married. How wonderful. Theo was mad for you at school, you know. I wasn't friends with that group, myself, but I heard things when my sister and Pansy gossiped. Never underestimate the power of a snoopy sister," she said and her laugh was light and airy, reminding Hermione of Luna, only . . . a bit more bound to this reality.

"The wedding is in a few weeks. I'm terribly behind on planning it, I'm afraid. Daphne and my mother have all but taken over and I'm certain once the pair are introduced I'll be steam-rolled," she said with a chuckle, but her face read anxious. "I . . . I hope you don't mind if I—"

Astoria looked up. "He nearly didn't make it, you know," she said, jumping right into the subject without bothering with the small talk leading up to it. "I assume you've researched the others?"

Hermione nodded.

"So you know none of them made it to their . . . expiration date?" she said and her tone was suddenly cold and bitter. "That psychopath," she whispered angrily under her breath. "Be glad that Draco and Blaise made it through. I know they lost Gregory but . . . my Adrian lost everyone."

Hermione frowned, unable to think on such things. After seeing how close Theo and Draco were, she couldn't imagine one without the other. She remembered seeing Harry's body, carried across Hogwart's grounds in Hagrid's arms during the final battle, and she and Ron could barely hold one another up at the sight. It was unthinkable, what Adrian Pucey had gone through, losing all three of his best friends.

A waitress stopped by to take their orders and refill their waters and Hermione was surprised to see Astoria request a cocktail, even this early in the afternoon. When the waitress left the women alone once again, Hermione sighed and broached the subject once more. "None of them made it to their . . . their anniversary," she said. "None except Adrian and Draco and we know why. But . . . there's no pattern. "They each died before the anniversary but of varying symptoms. Why did it affect them differently if it was the same curse? And you said that Adrian barely made it to your wedding, but he took the Mark the same month as the others. They all died in August, but you and Adrian married in July. Why was Adrian sicker than the others?"

Astoria frowned. "I would have thought you'd have figured that one out easily," the girl said sadly. "I imagine Theo's not doing very well?"

Hermione shook her head. "His anniversary isn't until June. It's barely April and he's . . . I swear to Merlin, I feel like I've already almost lost him more than once and had I not been there to . . . to . . ." She took a slow, deep breath to calm herself, still occasionally surprised by her emotional reaction to Theo. She knew she loved him, yes, but still acknowledged the short time they'd had together. It was a shock to the system to be so emotionally invested in the life of a man who was a virtual stranger only a month earlier.

She didn't notice when Astoria reached across the table and took her hand. "I've been there," she whispered and Hermione smiled, immediately seeing Daphne's warm presence in the younger Greengrass sister. "Dark Magic," she said and Hermione blinked. "Cassius and Graham were slow. Same with Marcus. He played Quidditch for Salazar's sake. Cassius and Graham were locked up in their own homes or flats, living off of whatever money they had left once the Ministry got their share after the war. Adrian, though, Adrian was hit hard by the reparations and had to get a job. Do you know who hires known Death Eaters without brilliant N.E.W.T scores like Theo's?" she asked.

Hermione shook her head.

Astoria was angry, visibly so, and she looked like she was struggling to put back the emotionless mask that kept her hidden from the outside world. "Borgin and Burkes. Knockturn Alley doesn't judge, obvious reasons," she said with a sigh.

The pieces were fitting together.

"He was exposed to all the Dark Magic in the items in the shop," Hermione said.

Astoria nodded. "I've only got Adrian for proof. Not exactly as though you could make a proper study of the curse, now is it? Few living test subjects. I believe all the others lasted as long as they did because they were just living their lives. Adrian was exposed to Dark Magic and the curse fed off of it. Maybe even the bits still lingering inside of him from whatever he was forced to do in the war."

Hermione was swallowing down her quickly rising panic. "I . . . Theo's a Curse-Breaker," she said.

Astoria sadly nodded. "Perhaps it's time you moved up your wedding date. As I said, Adrian barely made it to ours. If it hadn't been for Theo and Draco, he wouldn't have at all."

"How . . . how did they help?" Hermione asked.

Astoria's mask was back in place. "Well," she said. "_One_ of them has a history with using the Imperius Curse."

Hermione's eyes widened. "They . . . Draco . . . how could the bond be properly formed if Adrian was—"

"Walk down an aisle then stand there," Astoria said. "Easy instructions, don't you think? I read a study once that showed people with broken legs were able to walk—regardless of pain and damage—because an Imperius told them to. One simple little curse to help a man walk when he hadn't the strength. He made the vow of his own will," she added. "And as for the Unforgivable, well, it's an interesting _theory_, don't you agree?" she asked, and her meaning was clear. She'd technically admitted to nothing.

Not that Hermione would run straight to the Ministry and turn Draco in. Not for . . . not for that.

Their food arrived and both women smiled politely at the waitress but were suddenly lacking in appetite.

"What do I do?" Hermione whispered.

Astoria gave her a sympathetic smile. "Save him."


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: I'm just gonna go ahead and leave this here.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Thirty-Five

* * *

**April 3rd, 2004**

If she were the type to believe in such things, Hermione would have thought she'd tempted fate by meeting with Astoria Pucey. After rushing home for dinner only to find that Theo wasn't feeling well enough to join her and her parents, Hermione ate quickly and bid them both goodnight before retiring early to bed only to find Theo sick in the bathroom again, shivering with a fever that refused to drop. She was up most of the night with him, recasting Cooling Charms every hour or so.

Hermione woke shortly before dawn when the colours on the horizon began to shift and the stars could still be seen in the sky if you looked hard enough. Theo was awake, looking pale and tired, but no longer sweating or sick, just . . . weak.

"I love you," she whispered instead of something banal like "hi" or "good morning". He looked like he needed more than the acknowledgement of his presence and the time of day.

He reached over, wrapping a hand around her waist and tugging her forward with the little strength he possessed. Instead of saying anything, Theo replied with his actions, kissing her softly, languidly, stroking her tongue with his in torturously slow movements.

She touched his face with the tips of her fingers, tracing his jaw and running the pad of her thumb along the stubble. She smiled, knowing that it was probably driving him mental having it there, unkempt. Pureblood boys—at least the Slytherins she knew—put so much effort into their appearance; raised to believe that the world needed to see them a certain way. Instead of pulling away like he sometimes did when she'd scratch her nails against the prickly hairs on his face, he pressed into her, pushing his cheek against her hand before turning to kiss her palm.

She smiled sweetly at the gesture and had planned on relaxing against him when she'd wondered momentarily why his hands were no longer around her waist.

"Open," Theo whispered, rubbing his fingers between her thighs, coaxing them apart to palm her mound and slip a digit between her folds. She wasn't wet, but a few gentle strokes, a small pinch, and another deep kiss had her ready for him. Hermione moaned as he rubbed her from within, searching out spots inside that he knew from memory made her purr. "I want inside you," he said, his voice quiet but rough and he pulled his fingers away from her pussy and tugged on her hips.

She knew after the night he'd had before, he wouldn't have the strength and, honestly, she was shocked that the desire was there at all. She scooted back and then knelt on the bed, crawling forward and swinging a leg over his waist to straddle him as he rolled onto his back.

Theo rested his hands on her hips and moaned when she made the slightest contact with his erection, suddenly very grateful that they'd gone to bed without bothering to dress for it. His hands roamed over her stomach and up her ribcage before running his thumbs over her nipples, watching—feeling—as they hardened under his touch. With very little lead-up, Hermione reached between her legs and took hold of him. Theo hissed at the touch, grateful for the pleasurable feeling that rushed through his aching body. When she lowered herself onto him, impaling herself on his cock, Hermione groaned and Theo threw his head back into the pillow behind him, wishing he had the strength to buck up into her, to flip her over and pound away until she screamed his name like a prayer.

Hermione moved his hands for him, covering her breasts with his palms before placing hers flat on his chest for balance as she rocked her hips slowly, back and forth and back and forth. The friction was a slow burn instead of a quick flame but no less intense. She circled her pelvis when she found a particularly pleasing spot and she repeated the action over and over again until a sheen of sweat built on her skin.

When she came, it was an avalanche of emotions, and wetness, and a few swears that he would tease her about later. He smiled blissfully and held her in his arms, kissing the top of her head as she did the same to his chest.

Minutes later when she tried to sit back up, he held her still. "But you didn't get to—"

"I want _this_," he said, telling himself that he needed to hold her more than he needed to come. It was mostly true, but also easier to think than the fact that he wasn't strong enough to go again, and he was already softening inside of her thanks to pain and fatigue. Her cheek resting against his chest with her fingers running up and down his sides helped; soothed him. "Just you. Just you and me together. Just this."

He fought back against the panic and fear of death and the unknown as she drifted off to sleep in his arms. Fought against the sadness of the situation and the overwhelming urge to tell her that he was properly scared.

Death Eaters—former or not—weren't supposed to fucking cry.

oOoOoOo

After making sure that Theo was resting in bed, Hermione left the manor for the day to take care of errands. She had a few things she wanted to check on at the Ministry, knowing Remus wouldn't be there and she could get away with sneaking in an hour or so of work without being caught not on vacation. Afterward, she visited a Quidditch practice for little Teddy who was working extra hard to score as many goals as possible, as both of his parents were able to come and watch, despite the full moon only a few days away.

Hermione smiled and watched the little Metamorphmagus play, his hair turning bright green anytime he did something he was particularly proud of. She handed out biscuits to everyone in attendance, giving the leftovers to Remus along with a Pain Potion and he smiled up at her gratefully.

When Quidditch was over, Hermione went back to Grimmauld Place with Daphne, who had taken out all of her wedding inspiration albums and the copious notes she'd already taken in regards to Hermione and Theo's wedding. Hermione mentioned that she was thinking about moving up the wedding date, something she'd planned on discussing with Theo that night. Daphne went into overdrive and brought out "the big" wedding folder which looked more organized than Hermione's N.E.W.T. revision timetable.

It was hours before Hermione was able to return home, and when she did she was laden with wedding homework.

She sighed and dropped the heavy wedding planning album on the table as she stepped out of the fireplace, kicking her shoes off in the process and then tucking some fallen strands of hair behind her ears when blowing them out of her face didn't work. "Anyone home?" she called out, shocked at the quiet.

"Pixy feeds the Mistress's parents in their quarters," Pixy said as she turned the corner, smiling up at Hermione. "Tick busy cleaning up the Muggle house so Pixy helps. Mistress's parents are taking a night in."

Hermione frowned. "Is everything all right?"

Pixy nodded. "Theys be wanting privacy," she said and then giggled when Hermione grimaced a touch. When her laughter subsided, Pixy sighed. "Maybe Mistress can be getting Master to eat something. He be in a bad mood. Talking nonsense and sending Pixy away, saying he not hungry. Foolish boy."

Hermione sighed in frustration. "Foolish indeed. He had a rough night last night," she informed the elf. "He's stubborn."

"Pixy knows it," the elf said in exasperation. "Mistress needing anything?"

Hermione smiled. "No, thank you, Pixy. I had a bite to eat at Harry and Daphne's house. I'll just go up to bed and try to get Theo to eat something."

After leaving Pixy to tend to her parents, Hermione made her way to her and Theo's quarters, surprised to hear talking and noise, considering he was supposed to be resting. "Sorry that took so long," she called out to him. "Daphne wouldn't let me out of the house without looking at at least twenty-five different flower arrangements. I think she's having more fun planning our wedding than she is planning . . ." Hermione paused as she entered their bedroom, shocked to see that he wasn't there. "Theo?"

There was a loud crash in one of the connecting rooms and Hermione rushed forward, wand drawn. "Theo!" she yelled when she stepped into a sitting room, one she knew used to be Theo's former bedroom when he was still a child but now only held boxed up memorabilia from school that they hadn't found a proper way to display yet.

Her wizard ignored her, standing in the corner of the room, tearing through boxes violently. "Where is it? Where is it? Fuck, fuck . . ." he said in a panic under his breath. "I'm dead if Father thinks I've lost it. Bloody mask, stupid robes . . . honour . . ." he muttered as he frantically scratched at his left forearm. "Brotherhood my arse . . . fuck!"

Hermione, wand still clutched tightly in hand, stepped into the small amount of light. "Theo?"

He looked up immediately at the sound, drawing his wand on her and aiming it high. His eyes were bloodshot and the dark circles beneath were a deep purple and made the pallor of his face look that much sicker. "Who's there?!" he snapped, his jaw set tight. When she took another cautious step closer, Theo's angry scowl vanished, but his eyes widened in recognition. "Herm . . . G-Granger?"

Hermione began to panic.

"Granger, what the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, slowly approaching her as though he were waiting for her to attack. She didn't lower her wand and neither did he. He glanced over her form, looking for injuries. "Did they . . . oh fuck . . . you can't be here. Did someone bring you here?" he asked, moving quickly toward her, looking deranged. "Shit!"

She took a step away from him but slowly lowered her wand, though she didn't let it go or put it back in her pocket either. "Theo?" she whispered, trying to keep her voice calm. "What's happening? Tell me exactly what you think is happening?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you mean what I _think _is happening?" he said and then flinched, turning to the closed door on the other side of the room as though he heard a noise coming from beyond it. "You shouldn't be here," he said quietly and then turned to look at her. "Wait . . . but . . . but you can't be here. Draco said that . . . you were there. You and Potter and Weasley and . . ." his eyes drew to her forearm where the Mudblood scar was still there, clear as it ever was. He looked like he was going to be sick when he saw it; a much different reaction than the first time he'd seen it. "Fuck," he whispered. "It really happened. He said he tried but . . . oh fuck." He reached up and tugged at his hair in a panic. "Granger, you can't be here. If my father—"

"Theo . . . come here," Hermione said softly, reaching out for him, trying to hide the way her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline running.

Theo stared at her outstretched arm in confusion. "What are you doing? You don't understand," he said and then backed himself up against the wall when she moved closer. "Get away from me!" he yelled and then flinched when she reached out and touched his cheek with her open palm. There was half a beat before he turned on her, grabbing her hand and trying to push her away from him. "Don't you have any sense?! You're supposed to be smarter than this! Don't you know what I am?!" He snarled, pulling up the sleeve of his robe and showing the Dark Mark on his forearm, scratched and red, looking almost bruised.

Hermione stared at it, wondering what on earth he'd done to himself in her absence. She refused to react to his fear scare tactics. He was lost and she needed to figure out how to find him—or subdue him. "Yes. I know you, Theo."

He kept his eyes on he for a long time as though he were searching for something. When he couldn't find it, he growled. "Then you know what I'm capable of," he said and threw her arm away from him. "Get out before they . . ." he said and then took a deep breath, choking on the exhale, "before they make me . . . get out!"

She shook her head. "I'm not leaving you."

"What's wrong with you?!" he screamed and she could see tears in his eyes. "I'm on the wrong side! You don't know me! We've never even . . . get out!" His face turned into something darker. "If you don't get out of here, he'll make me hurt you, don't you understand you stupid little—"

She kissed him.

She knew what he was trying to do. What his curse-riddled mind was trying to make him do. Scare her to save her because he thought they were still at war; thought that they were still enemies and that he'd be forced to kill her if someone caught them. She wasn't afraid. Not of this Theo, not after everything she'd learned about him, about who he was and even who he used to be. She knew that a part of him loved her even then. The proof was in the fact that, despite trying to scare her away not second earlier, Theo melted into her kiss like it was their first. Melted into her, hands shaking and grabbing onto her shoulders, holding her to him as though this was his last chance to do something wonderful before he died.

Because he thought he would.

She tasted a mixture of potions and lemon and a sweetness that was all Theo. She also tasted the salty mixture of tears from the both of them, falling down their cheeks and mingling in their mouths.

He pulled away from her, cupping her cheeks and staring into her eyes with absolute terror. "You don't understand," he whispered, voice shaking.

Hermione tried to hold back the sob that was scratching at her chest. She leaned up and kissed him again, mildly surprised that he let her. When she was the one to pull away this time, she said, "I love you, Theo."

He began to cry harder. Elated, obviously, that the girl he'd admired from afar could say something so wonderful to him, but there was confusion and fear and heavy suspicion there as well. Why would Hermione Granger love him? A Death Eater. Someone she didn't even know.

"I'm so sorry, love," she said quietly and when Theo rose a brow, she swallowed hard and whispered, "_Stupefy_."

* * *

**A/N**: I know, I'm sorry. I swear this will all be resolved before I go on temporary hiatus. To deal with some awful feels, I've got some fluffy for you all. Over at Bewitching-Fiction dot com, I have the first of 4 one shots stories (a summer challenge) that are going to be companions to Tying the Nott. The story is called "Love Me, Love Me Nott" and the first chapter "Cake" is already up. So check out Bewitching-Fiction dot com and just search for Shaya Lonnie to find the fic.


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: This was one of my favourite chapters to write. I adore it. The next chapter hasn't been written because my muse is fighting against me. I will **try** to get it out before next Wednesday, I promise.

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Thirty-Six

* * *

**April 3rd, 2004**

Hermione secured an unconscious Theo in their bathroom and locked and warded the door before running out of the room and down the stairs, far too distracted and emotional to Apparate within the manor. When she neared her parents' quarters, she drew up her wand and warded the area along with the strongest Notice-Me-Not she had in her arsenal, just in case Theo somehow broke out and went roaming. Death Eaters had been unable to locate her, Harry, and Ron during the last year of the war thanks to these wards, and she was certain it would keep Theo out as well.

"_Protego Totalum, Salvio Hexia_," she muttered as she cast the spells, turning in the opposite direction, facing her room with Theo before casting, "_Repello Muggletum_," to keep her parents away from the other side of the manor where a potentially dangerous Death Eater lay unconscious.

Once her parents were as protected as they could be, Hermione called out, "Pixy!"

The little elf appeared. "Mistress calls for Pixy?"

"Pixy I need you to stay with my parents. Don't let them see you unless they need something. But stay and keep them from leaving their room."

Pixy reached out and touched the air. "Mistress put up thick spells," she said with a frown.

"Pixy, can you do this?" Hermione asked, not wanting to leave Theo alone for very long. "I need you to do this."

The elf looked torn, but slowly nodded her large head. "Pixy does," she agreed and then watched as Hermione turned and fled down the hallway, back to her and Theo's bedroom.

Once inside, Hermione locked the room and took a slow, deep breath to calm herself. She had known this was possible but thought there would be more time. Goyle hadn't begun hallucinating until the very end, within days of the anniversary when he took the Dark Mark. Theo was supposed to have _months _left. Hermione reflected on her conversation the day before with Astoria Pucey and she sighed. She had known Theo's time had been cut down, but not by _this _much.

One fact was very clear: he wasn't going to make it to their wedding.

She grabbed the hem of her blouse and lifted it to wipe her eyes before schooling her features and summoning in courage. She needed to get into the bathroom, cast a few diagnostic spells, wake Theo up and administer several potions to keep him calm enough so that she could figure out what to do next. What she didn't expect when she opened the bathroom door, was to see her wizard laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

"Theo!" she screamed and ran to his side, noting that he was still unconscious thanks to her Stunning Spell. However, despite not being awake, the fingernails of his right hand had dug vicious-looking grooves into his left forearm, soaking his robes with blood. "_Rennervate_!" she said in a panic and watched Theo's eyes open.

He looked up at her with obvious recognition and stifled the need to cry. "I'm sorry," he said, looking utterly defeated.

"Theo, stop," she said when she watched as he tried to scratch his arm again. Forcefully restraining his right hand, pinning it to the ground with a temporary Sticking Charm, Hermione surveyed the damage. "What do you remember?" she asked him as she examined the wound, frowning at the deep scrapes and cuts that dug deep into his arm.

"I can't get it off. Hermione, I'm sorry, it won't come off," Theo said, all of his attention drawn to the bleeding Dark Mark. "It hurts. It burns." He fought against the Sticking Charm.

Hermione's eyes widened when she saw that he was about to dislocate his shoulder in the attempt to regain the use of his right hand. "Stop, stop, stop, stop! Theo . . . shit!" she screamed when she heard a loud popping sound and Theo yelled out in pain. She turned and dug into the cabinet behind her, grabbing her dittany and a Calming Draught. "Drink this," she demanded, uncorking the vial and holding it to his lips. Theo resisted. "Drink it!" she yelled. "I'll help you, I promise. We'll get the burning to stop."

He finally relented, swallowing down the potion which took effect immediately, allowing his body to sag back down. Hermione adjusted him to a sitting position so that she could administer a Pain Potion without him choking. Once that was properly swallowed, she frowned. "This might still hurt," she said and then winced as she aimed her wand and fixed his shoulder.

He seemed barely conscious when she turned her attention to the wound on his arm, applying dittany in small drops along the cuts, watching as it smoked and hissed, repairing the torn skin. He didn't even react to the pain. "It's like he's trying to summon me, but I can't . . . there's nowhere to go," he muttered. "I hate him, I hate him, fuck! That bastard branded us like cattle and he killed my friends and now he's killing me," he said angrily, the Calming Draught already wearing off, being consumed rapidly by the curse. "Motherfucker!"

Hermione ignored the outburst and sealed the dittany back up. "Theo, sweetheart, stay with me, okay?" she said, cupping his face in her hands, trying to refocus his attention.

"Hermione?" he looked up at her and frowned. "Hermione, you're bleeding," he said, staring at the spots of blood—_his_ blood—that had dried on her skin.

She sniffled. "I'm fine," she promised him. "I love you, I'll be right back, okay?"

He closed his eyes and winced. "Promise?"

"I swear on my life."

A moment later she stood in front of the fireplace of their drawing room, throwing Floo Powder into the grate and screaming, "Malfoy Manor!" When the green flames rose high, Hermione stuck her head inside and yelled, "DRACO!"

It was less than a minute before the annoyed blond approached from his side, wearing long night robes and designer Muggle slippers. He glared at the witch with her head in the fire. "Fucking Hell, Granger, give a man a heart attack," he said with irritation. "What the hell do you . . . is that . . . is that blood?" he asked, his tone lowering.

"We have a big fucking problem, Malfoy," she said. "I need you over here now!"

He nodded without hesitation. "Step back, I'm coming through," he said and waited for her to disappear before jumping into the flames and stumbling out the other side into the drawing room of Nott Manor. "Where is he? What happened?" he asked immediately, not even bothering to dust away the soot from his robes.

He followed as she sped down the hall. "He was hallucinating earlier," she told him. "Thought we were back in the war and I'd somehow either been brought to his house or sneaked in and he was trying to get me to leave to protect me . . . I stunned him so I could get my parents out."

"Why were your parents here?"

She growled and snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Focus, Malfoy! I came back and he was in the bathroom with his left arm clawed up like a piece of meat! He did it _while still stunned_! He's trying to scratch the Dark Mark off of himself. He's in . . ." she frowned, obviously close to breaking but relying on the strength she'd used to carry her through war to keep her upright now. "He's in too much pain and . . . he can't wait any longer. We need to be bound tonight. Right now."

Draco stared at her. "What do you want me to do, go kidnap a Ministry Official and bring them here?"

She slapped him on the shoulder. "_You_ are a Ministry Official, prat!"

"I don't know the spell," he said as they walked into the bedroom.

"_I_ do," a serene voice said from behind them and both Draco and Hermione jumped and screamed, turning to see Luna standing there, soot on her white dressing gown. "Hello, Hermione."

"Luna . . ." Draco said with a heavy sigh. "Luna, go back . . ." he tried to tell her to return to Malfoy Manor, but she ignored him completely and made her way into the bathroom. "Fucking terrific," he growled.

"Hello, Theodore," Luna said with a smile.

Theo looked up at his best friend's wife, a hand resting on her stomach as she approached him. "Luna . . . get back . . . the baby . . ." he said and tried to scoot away from her but unable to move properly, slipping in blood anytime he leveraged himself against the floor. "Get away, I'm fucking tainted."

Luna ignored Theo's attempts to flee from her and her unborn child and, instead, reached out and took his right hand—the left looked a bit worse for wear—and placed it palm down on her stomach.

Almost instantly, Theo relaxed, his eyes regaining clarity and understanding. He leaned back against the edge of the tub where Hermione had placed him, a calm but focused expression on his face as though Luna had magically removed his unease and paranoia. He glanced up at Hermione and Draco who stood in the doorway, both looking gobsmacked at the sight. Draco winced when Theo pulled his hand away, leaving a bloody print behind on Luna's gown.

"How?" Theo asked the blond witch.

Luna smiled. "The unborn have innocent magic. They're kind of like unicorns that way. They can't _fix _curses, but they can help ease the burdens of the mind and heart."

Hermione moved completely into the room and knelt down in front of her wizard, taking his right hand that still lingered in the air. "Theo, we need to be bound, immediately."

He frowned and shook his head. "You deserve better than this."

"I deserve to have you alive."

Defeated, Theo nodded in acceptance.

"Do it, Malfoy," Hermione ordered.

"Fine, fuck," Draco hissed as he stepped into the bathroom, studiously avoiding the puddle of blood and the red footprints on the floor. He looked for a place to stand or sit and then just sighed irritably before jumping up onto the counter near the sink, his legs hanging over the edge like a toddler. "Okay so . . . we are gathered here—"

"Just the bonding ritual," Hermione swiftly interrupted. "We're still having a wedding later. Daphne and my mother would kill me if we didn't."

Draco rolled his eyes and cleared his throat as Luna leaned close to him, whispering the ritual words in his ear. "Right . . . with full awareness, do you, Hermione Granger enter into marriage with this wizard, to willingly bind yourself to him, knowing that from this moment forward your lives are one, your hearts are one, and your magic is one?"

Hermione smiled and squeezed Theo's hand, bringing her free palm up to cup his jaw. "Yes," she said.

Draco waited for Luna to say the next part and then repeated it. "Do you swear this on your blood and your magic?"

Hermione withdrew her wand and released Theo's hand to inflict a small cut in the center of her left palm. "I so swear it," she vowed. As she spoke the words, a golden light encircled her bleeding palm and wrist. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against Theo's, stroking his face when he sighed.

"Good," Draco said. "Now, with full awareness, do you, Theodore Nott enter into marriage with this witch, knowing that if you don't, your best friend will follow you into the godsdamned afterlife to drag you back kicking and screaming by your bollocks?"

Luna tilted her head to the side and blinked her large eyes. "Are those the traditional vows?"

Theo growled. "Mate . . ."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. Do you willingly bind yourself to her, knowing that from this moment forward your lives are one, your heart is one, and your magic is one?"

"Yes."

"Do you swear this on your blood and your magic?"

Theo reached for his wand and sighed when it was a struggle to hold it with either hand. He opened the palm of his right hand, inflicting the cut in the center of it magically and then sighed in relief when it hit its mark on the first try. "I so swear it," he said and watched as a golden light covered his wrist and hand the same way it had Hermione's.

Draco raised his hawthorn wand and aimed it at the pair, whispered, "_Alligatura_," and watched as the two golden lights drew their palms together as though they were magnetised. "Right then. By the power vested in me—_evidently_—as an official of the Ministry of Magic, I proclaim you now bonded for life," he said and watched as the light glowed brightly before releasing their hands, the cuts on their palms healed over.

"Congratulations!" Luna said excitedly, throwing a handful of dried flower petals and wood chips that had been sitting in a basket of potpourri above the toilet as though it were traditional rice; as though Hermione and Theo weren't just married, on the floor of their bathroom, sitting in a puddle of his blood.

Draco put his wand away and then groaned as he wiped his hands down his face. "Fuck, this has been the longest couples of years of my life."

Theo, who was busy staring at Hermione and marvelling at the way she smiled back, smirked. "We've had worse."

Draco slowly nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I suppose. Well, now it's done," he said and hopped down off of the counter. "Life debt fulfilled, Granger. Much obliged."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I didn't owe you a—"

"Come on, love," Draco said, holding his hand out to Luna who took it and skipped over the coagulated blood on the floor in front of her. "Our part is over with, but these two need to finish the ritual alone." The blond wizard smirked. "Unless . . ."

"Get out, Draco," Theo and Hermione said simultaneously.


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer**: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

**Beta Love**: Fluffpanda

**Warning**: Rated M for language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

**A/N**: Guess who had a random moment of inspiration? To answer many questions, yes I am alive, no I am not abandoning this story, no I do not plan to put it back on a regular schedule. I'm going to write it as it comes to me and post chapters when they are done. That simple. I love all of you who continue to encourage me and think about my welfare. Remember that the best way to get questions answered is by communicating with me on tumblr (shayalonnie).

* * *

**Tying the Nott**

Chapter Thirty-Seven

* * *

**April 3rd, 2004**

The pool of blood he sat in had coagulated on the floor; dark and stick and drying quickly, staining the tile beneath it. Theo sighed, already hearing the sounds of Pixie scolding him for making such a mess. Hermione likely wouldn't come to his defence either, not over this one, and not against a house-elf. The metallic smell was heavy in the air, mixed with potpourri and magic. Draco and Luna gone, Theo's eyes were only for Hermione.

His witch. His love. His salvation.

His _wife_.

"So that's it. Married," he said, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. Hermione deserved better. Deserved a big white wedding with her parents and friends. She deserved Daphne making a fuss, Blaise and Ginny spiking the punch while Harry and Ron drank on unsuspectingly. Pansy would make a scene, insisting on catching the bouquet despite already being married, and Draco and Luna would get caught shagging in a dark corner somewhere. She deserved everything.

What she got was a life or death bonding ceremony in their bathroom.

She smiled softly, nervously. "Bonded. Not _married_, not really," she clarified with a quiet laugh, her fingers threaded through his; blood stained.

He frowned at the amount of red that surrounded them and wondered how Hermione spent so many years in Gryffindor Tower surrounded by the colour without thinking immediately of blood. He craved the dark green and black of the dungeons, the cool tile floor and crisp air. Light from the fire lit up the dark walls with shadows from the creatures in the Black Lake dancing on it. Not a scrap of red in sight.

Red polluted their bathroom, and he vowed to paint the walls dark green when Hermione wasn't looking. "You deserved better than . . . than _this_," he whispered, looking down at her engagement ring, usually pink and sparkling, now stained and smudged.

She leaned forward and kissed him softly and Theo felt a spark inside, similar to what he felt during the actual bonding. Like a fire deep down trying desperately to come to life. "I deserve _you_," Hermione whispered against his mouth, and he could taste the sweetness of her breath. "I want _you_. Even if it's you on the floor of our bathroom, covered in your own blood." She grabbed his forearm and looked at the deep gashes across the Dark Mark. "What were you thinking, Theo?"

He shrugged. "Don't remember thinking much, to be honest. I just wanted the damned thing off of me."

"How do you feel now?"

He inhaled shakily. "Like . . . terrible but . . . it feels like I'm buzzing," he said, holding out his free hand and watching as it shook. Not from loss of blood but from something powerful stirring inside of him, humming against his skin. "I can feel my magic and . . . and I think I can feel yours. As though there are bees in my chest circling a hive and not knowing how to get in. Does that make sense?"

She smiled sweetly and kissed him again. Once more the fire sparked. "Yes," she said. "We need to—"

He frowned and pulled away from her. "This feels like a chore. I don't like it." Bonding ceremony in the bathroom, check; consummate marriage, check.

She let go of his hand and cupped his face, pulling herself forward and straddling his legs. "Then don't let it be a chore. My magic is buzzing too," she said, breathing hot against his jawline. "It's . . . cold and hot at the same time, burning. I feel like . . . like it's missing something . . . integral . . . I'm empty."

Heat stirred him to life, and he let a small growl through his throat, still raw from screaming earlier. "You deserve rose petals and white silk . . . candles and . . . _as if you had let loose the grief, the love, the fury of a cork-trapped wine that geysers flooding from deep in its vault. In my mouth, I felt the taste of fire again._" Lips parted, hovering over hers and breathing in each exhale, Theo closed his eyes and fought the dark urges pushing him, tempting him forward, tempting him to take. "You deserve to have me make love to you slowly, purposefully, worshipping every inch of you."

Hermione ground her hips against his, her body shivering. "I want you _alive_," she said, pulling a groan from his throat. "You are more than welcome to whisper honeyed words to me after my father walks me down the aisle, after my mother cries, after I throw a stupid bouquet right into Ginny's unappreciative arms," she said with a smirk. "Make slow love to me _that _night. But right now, I don't need romance. I need you desperately, hot and hard and . . . I need your magic . . . I want to give you mine," she whimpered her words as Theo tilted his pelvis up, pushing his iron hard erection between her thighs and making out the words "Fuck me" as she silently mouthed them against his jaw.

He clenched his eyes shut as the heat built and built inside of him, pooling in his groin like a furnace that spewed embers and smoke and ash around his magical core; an internal Mount Vesuvius, his blood was a delicious magma. "I don't . . . I need to get . . ." And he reached an arm out to the open door, gesturing to their bedroom, oblivious to the fact that Hermione was reaching her hand between their bodies, slipping into his trousers and gripping his length with soft, sticky hands.

"No time," she whispered, adjusting her own clothing in the process, granting him access straight to the damp, pink parts of her that he'd so quickly become addicted to. "You've been dying for far too long, Theo . . . I need you alive inside of me."

Theo pushed his hips up, and she fell down, angled perfectly so that he sheathed himself completely, wet and warm and soft, like liquid silk wrapped around his cock. They both let out groans of satisfaction that felt like coming home. The _second _thrust, however, ignited something dangerous and Hermione clutched his shoulders, digging her fingers into the muscles as fireworks exploded inside of her chest, sending tingling, burning magic through her nerves, outward to the tips of her fingers and down to her toes.

She felt him, his magic, his essence swirling inside with her own. She could almost see it: dark green and silver moving like a tidal wave and engulfing the red and gold of her own core, twisting and turning and braiding together, never to be parted. Flashes of spells she'd cast over her life were brought to the forefront of her mind when he grabbed her hip and thrust twice more, harder with each stroke. She felt the memories of feathers floating, fires starting, locks unlocking. She felt more than remembered every _Stupefy_, every _Impedimenta_, every _Obliviate_.

And then she felt the darkness.

She felt the power behind each _Crucio_, each _Imperio_, each _Avada_.

It wasn't _her _magic any longer, but Theo's. Dark and stained but still beautiful, and despite knowing what it was and how the darkness got there, she clung to it and him, pressing her fingers deeper into his shoulders as though she could permanently tattoo her prints there; tilting her hips so that his cock filled her completely, reaching and digging into her like a hot iron. She took him completely, flaws, past, Dark magic and all, and let her own magic swallow him whole.

"Are you . . . do you . . . it's . . ." Theo gasped as her magic filled him the same way, though instead of the addictive drowning that Hermione experienced, Theo's breath caught with every push of his pelvis and every rock of her hips; her magic filling in the bits of him that were missing, bits that had died away already, decayed and infected and poisoning him. Like a burst dam washing away a forest fire, his magical core repaired itself with the Healing Potion that was just _her_, and the strength that had been gone for months all too quickly returned to him.

His eyes opened and bored into hers with a ferocity she'd not yet seen and certainly had not anticipated.

His eyes, the calm ocean surrounding earth were now raging tidal waves, shining in the dim light of their bathroom like sapphires sparkling in the moonlight.

His hands gripped her blouse and ripped the fabric at the same time that his mouth claimed hers, lips parting and tongue invading as her breast spilled out, nipples tight and needy for his touch. Despite nearly bleeding out on the floor, Theo stood, carrying her with him and wrapping her legs around his waist. Setting her arse on the counter behind her, Theo grunted, fucking her deep and hard and grinning when she cried out in pleasure, her body fluttering against his cock in suspense.

"Oh gods . . ." Hermione moaned, her fingernails biting into his skin, leaving behind red crescent marks. "I love you . . . Theo, harder," she pleaded, a sudden slave to his strength, his ferocity, his magic—light, dark, grey . . . it didn't matter anymore because it was theirs.

Theo threaded his fingers through hers and used the connection to lift her hands above her head, pinning her to the mirror as he continued to rock inside of her. The colour returned to his skin with each and every push and pull, and he grinned at the sight of his own reflection over her shoulder. Alive.

"Alive," he whispered in awe and then kissed her hard again, trying to desperately thank her with his body in ways that words would never be able to. When she whimpered again he briefly wondered if he was hurting her, if this version of him was too much, but she growled and sank her teeth into his bottom lip, and he had to stop his eyes from rolling in the back of his head as he felt his cock begin to throb with the painful need to come.

"Fuck!" Hermione cried into his mouth, and Theo clenched his eyes shut when her body clamped down around him tightly, squeezing and pulsing. He opened his eyes and the sight of her, half naked and breasts heaving, was enough to send him spiraling after her. His thighs burned as they tensed, and he drove into her three more times, slamming their entwined hands against the mirror once more, the glass breaking as he came.

Dizzy in the aftermath but unable—and unwilling—to pull out of her, basking in the warm sensation that was their joined bodies, alive and awake with a vibrating magic shared between them. Theo lifted his head from her shoulder, and the two gazed at one another, gasping for breath. She was a warrior, his witch. This woman had pulled him from Death's hands. She had told the long since dead Dark Lord to go fuck himself, caressing Theo's Dark Mark with near affection, two fingers to his past and the reason it was put there.

Once she'd caught her breath, Hermione giggled, her head swarmed with magic and hormones. She smiled as Theo kissed her cheek, jaw, chin, and then the hollow of her throat. "You've alive," she said, her personal victory chant. "You're alive and . . . and . . ."

"And quite ravenous," he said against her skin.

"Ready for round two?" she asked with a smirk.

"Forever."

Hermione grinned and wiggled her hips. Her powerful thighs wrapped around him like a python, the nails of one hand still piercing his skin like the claws of the lion that she was. A warrior. Sweat soaked and blood stained.

They'd survived a war looking like victims.

They survived their bonding looking like victors.


End file.
